


Three Years

by Anne_Aleus



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-15
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-04-14 19:27:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 147,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4576926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anne_Aleus/pseuds/Anne_Aleus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>1977 to 1980. Tom Marvolo Riddle builds an army, starts a war, and becomes Lord Voldemort. Bellatrix Lestrange trains, fights, and worships her Lord. Love is for the weak and the weak lose wars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Mysterious Mr. Marvolo

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so this is my first HP fanfic for this account, my first fic for the fandom in about ten years (middle school ftw) and so my HP knowledge is rusty-even with the helpful Wiki.
> 
> This isn't AU, but there are inevitably going to be canon deviations as I tend to make mistakes. For that reason there will probably be OOC as well.
> 
> Bella comes in towards the end of the chapter, she is not left out. Voldemort is only 'Marvolo' for basically this chapter and the very beginning part of the next one. Love that name, though.
> 
> Let me know what you think of this chapter, please.
> 
> :)

**(1977)**

Horace Slughorn was uncomfortable in the back corner of the Hog's Head Inn and Pub. Not only because he was used to more luxury than clothless wooden tables, dim lighting and dirt encrusted windows, but also because of the man sitting across from him in the secluded, windowless booth lit by flickering candle.

Tom Riddle.

At least, that what how Slughorn had known the man back when he was just a boy, an exceptional and ambitious student of his. But who was he now?

"Tom—" Slughorn began.

"That's not my name anymore." The man interrupted. "It never was."

He looked unnervingly young for his age—which must have been about fifty years—yet at the same time unnervingly inhuman. His skin was pale, even for a Briton and his once dark eyes had turned red.

Slughorn knew why. But he did not dare say it.

"So what do you call yourself now?" he asked.

The man smiled. The smile was icy and emotionless like it had always been.

"I have chosen a new name…but it's not yet time to use it. For now, you can call me after my grandfather, descendent of Salazar Slytherin, Marvolo."

Slughorn grimaced at the name. He had heard of Marvolo Gaunt, an inbred criminal, much more of a disgrace to his famous ancestor than the halfblood seated across the booth from Slughorn.

"Well then, 'Mr. Marvolo', I cannot help but ask, where were you all these years? Nobody has heard from you since Dumbledore refused you the professorship of Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Again, the icy smile.

* * *

**(1970)**

The night was dark and moonless, lit only by stars. High in the mountains, where the air was thin and cold, and the dirt and brush on the ground were icy, was a clearing between the thick forest of tall coniferous trees.

From those trees on sticky white webs hung giant black Spiders, magnificent and grotesque. They hissed to each other in their own ancient language no other species could understand and stared out at the clearing with tens of sets of eight eyes.

In the clearing, on the frozen grass, stood a tribe of Centaurs. Despite the frigid temperatures, their humanlike upper bodies were comfortable without clothing. With folded arms, their leader squinted at the Spiders he knew from the Forbidden Forest warily.

So did the Goblins, their eyes accustomed to the dark enough to see clearly. Short and physically weak, they had been carried up the mountains on the backs of the Centaurs, the only creatures at this gathering they trusted. They still sat on the backs of the Centaurs, huddling to the half-horses' fur for warmth, the tips of their pointed ears turning blue.

Across from them, on the rocks that felt like glaciers, were a band of Werewolves. It was not the full moon yet, so they stood in human form, cold like the Goblins and breathing heavily.

Almost as tall as the trees, towered the Giants. Their footsteps had rumbled like thunder as they had climbed the mountain in a just a few strides. Less intelligent than the rest of the creatures, they were the most impatient for the meeting to begin. They gazed through the darkness expectantly at the center of the clearing.

There stood the Vampires, uncold on the mountain this icy night. They had called this gathering.

They were pale skinned and red-eyed, just like the legends.

Tom Marvolo Riddle resembled them so much so he was assumed to be one of them…until he stepped forward to address the groups of supernatural creatures.

He pulled out his wand from his long black robes. The eyes of the magical creatures widened in surprise. The man was not a vampire, he was a _wizard!_

From the wand a soft yellow light glowed, illuminating the clearing.

He cleared his throat and then spoke. His voice echoed more loudly than natural throughout the clearing, that must have been a spell, too.

"You must be wondering why you're all here. Your species have nothing in common—except that you were all cast out by the Wizarding World, just like the Muggles cast out the Wizards and each of your kinds. We could have built a world together, our numbers and our powers overwhelming the weak and ignorant muggles. But instead, the Wizards forced you out, even choosing to accept mudbloods born to muggles into their society instead of creatures more pure in their magical ancestry."

He looked at the Goblins and the Centaurs.

"You Goblins slave in the Wizarding banks yet cannot even use wands. You Centaurs guard the forest of the Wizarding School, Hogwarts, yet cannot send your children to learn magic in its halls."

He turned to the Werewolves, Spiders, and Giants, next.

"Werewolves, Giants, Spiders. You all were driven to the margins of the Wizarding World, constantly hunted by wizards as abominations. Monsters."

And finally, he looked at the Vampires he stood among. "And you Vampires, once European Royalty before the Wizards ever ruled, now hide in the shadows. You took me in when I needed to hide from my enemies. Now, I want to bring you into the light—figuratively, of course."

A few of the vampires chuckled quietly— _politely._ Of all Tom Riddle's talents, humor had never been one of them.

"I want to bring all of you," Marvolo gestured at the different sects of creatures, with his wand hand and his empty hand, "back into society—not just as full citizens but as rulers."

"How're you planning to do that, human?"

A gruff voice had barked. Marvolo turned to its source.

A young, shirtless werewolf had stepped past the old, white-haired leader who had turned him when he was just a little boy. The leader glared at him but the young werewolf stared at Riddle in demand of an answer.

"By uniting all of us against whoever would oppose us." Marvolo provided that answer.

At that, the leader of the Centaurs scoffed. "Our species have tried to wage war against the Wizards before. Each time we failed. Why should we follow you now?"

"Because I am more powerful than any other wizard alive." Marvolo declared. It was an embellishment, of course, but one that would soon be fact as far as he was concerned.

As proof of his statement, he raised his wand again. The frozen ground began to crack beneath their feet, the trees began to shake from their deep roots.

The supernatural creatures glanced at each other in confusion and fear.

"Do you know why I wanted us all to meet here, on this particular mountain?" Marvolo asked, "It's not only because it's secluded, but also because a battle between two muggle armies was once fought here and there were thousands of casualties. The muggles left their dead to be buried by the snow."

Suddenly, the mountain clearing was punctured with hundreds of holes. Reaching out through them towards the dark, moonless sky, were human arms, withered and dead.

The Inferi.

The supernatural creatures, even the Vampires who had known of this plan in advance, gasped.

* * *

**(1977)**

So did Horace Slughorn.

In the candlelight, he held his palm to his open mouth. His eyes were wide as they stared across the gnarled wooden table at Tom Marvolo Riddle.

"Where did you learn to do that, Tom?" he asked, forgetting his former student's new name in his shock.

* * *

**(1960)**

It had taken years to find the last, hidden followers of Gellert Grindelwald and it had taken years to gain their favor—and their training in the Dark Arts once taught to them by their now imprisoned leader.

Tom Riddle had gained special training and special favor from one follower in particular. Idis' fair-haired and fair-skinned beauty was quietly fading into gray and wrinkles. She had once been the young follower, eager and loyal, of Grindelwald.

Now, she was older than the man in his thirties who called himself only Marvolo, who she had passed on the secret Dark Arts that Grindelwald had shown only to her—and to an old friend named Albus Dumbledore, many years before.

She led this group of followers, waiting for the night they would break their leader out of prison and try again to take over the world.

Currently, they hid out in a muggle town on the outskirts of the grounds of Nurmengard Prison. Though it had been fifteen years since the Muggle Second World War had ended, the town was still half-abandoned, its red-roofed houses in disrepair from the bombings.

In the master bedroom of one abandoned house in disrepair, fixed up by magic then charmed to appear empty and broken, Idis dressed in front of a full-length mirror.

It was the black coat and knee-length boot uniform Grindelwald's troops had worn during the war, almost the same as the Muggle Nazis except for the insignia on their armband. Instead of a Swastika, it was a black phoenix.

Idis knew why Gellert had chosen the bird.

Tom Riddle, who was watching her dress, knew too, though he did not admit this. The older woman did not know who he really was.

The phoenix was fitting, Riddle thought. Though Grindelwald was not technically dead, he would be soon if Riddle's plan succeeded. And even if it did not, the Dark Lord would already be reborn as Lord Voldemort.

But for now, Tom Riddle was Marvolo. He sat on the bed, pale legs hanging off the sides.

Did he enjoy this affair? Or just the satisfaction of knowing that he was sleeping with the _previous_ Dark Lord's woman?

"He never loved me, you know." Idis stated in her German-accented English, as if reading Riddle's thoughts. And maybe she had, she was good at Legilimency—though not as good as him.

She made eye-contact with his red eyes with her own blue, through her reflection in the mirror. The room was empty but for the bed and the mirror and the witch and the wizard.

"Powerful men are often incapable of love." Riddle reasoned.

Idis shook her head. "No. Gellert was capable."

"So there was another?" Riddle asked. He raised a dark eyebrow. Maybe he was sleeping with the wrong person if his goal was to claim what Grindelwald had once owned.

Idis nodded.

"Who?" Riddle followed-up.

At that, the woman only laughed. She glanced at the black phoenix wrapped around her arm.

* * *

**(1977)**

"Much of my Dark Arts knowledge I owe to her." Marvolo told Slughorn, "So it was a shame to have to kill her when she discovered my plan to kill her leader. All those years, all that time knowing he never loved her like she loved him…yet she was still loyal."

Slughorn could not look into the red eyes of the man across the table. He stared down at the mug he clutched tightly in his hand. It was empty.

"I had to flee Germany." Marvolo continued, "The Vampires in Romania took me in. I pretended to be one of them for years—I even drank the blood of muggles."

Slughorn tensed in shock and disgust. Then he shook his head solemnly, finally looking up at Marvolo, and into his eyes.

"By Merlin himself, Tom, who—no _what_ —have you become?"

Marvolo smiled his ice smile again. It was almost sincere. Proud.

"You will see." He promised.

Slughorn was not sure that he wanted to. "Why did you ask me here today? To the Hog's Head of all places? Albus Dumbledore doesn't want you anywhere near Hogwarts and you know that. Dumbledore's brother Aberforth owns this place. He'll know you're back."

"I want him to know." Marvolo declared, "Soon everyone will know." He glanced to their side at the pubs few disheveled patrons, chatting at other booths or drunk at the bar. "And as for the reason I asked you here, I want you to tell me who your best students are."

"Why?" Slughorn questioned, though he suspect the answer.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Professor." Marvolo warned, "Tell me."

"I won't name any current students, they're still just children." Slughorn circumvented, "But I will tell you of one graduate. Her name is Bellatrix and she was the most promising student I've taught since—well, since you, Tom."

Pride flashed in both his eyes and in Marvolo's. They both missed the school days where Tom Riddle was just a brilliant student and Horace Slughorn was just his favorite teacher.

"Anyway, she's wasting her talents as a housewife for Rodolphus Lestrange." Slughorn continued, somewhat bitterly, "You know how Purebloods are about women. Marry them off young and make them mothers to the next Pureblood generation, nevermind that they too could be the greats of their own generation as well as the men could—or better, perhaps, in Bellatrix's case."

"Bellatrix." Marvolo repeated the name, "That's a constellation name."

"Yes." Slughorn nodded, "She is your classmate Cygnus Black's daughter."

* * *

Centuries ago, the Black Family had been lords of muggles. They own the farmland and village on their acres of estate, surrounding their several-story manor.

Now, the farms were gone, replaced by overgrowth, the village was a small town, and the townhall had been bulldozed by muggles to put up a petrol station for the metal contraptions they called cars along the highway winding though the English countryside.

The secluded manor was somewhat dilapidated itself. Vines grew clinging to the chipped brick walls, biting at the shuttered windows. There were dead leaves in the raingutter and on the crumbling cobblestone pathway leading through the yellow lawn towards the building.

They scratched at the path as Marvolo approached. The noise was grating so he stomped on the closest leaf. The crunch was satisfying.

He thought, at first, that the state of the manor was a charm to fool muggles into thinking the house was abandoned. Then, he realized, that it was truly in such a sad and pathetic state.

Where had the tradition Black Family pride gone? Had everything so severely changed in the years he was away?

Marvolo wondered if Grimmauld Place was in similar dishevelment.

The afternoon sun gazed down at Marvolo as he climbed the stone steps towards the front door. He glanced up at it, shielding his red eyes that had become more sensitive to light.

A flash of motion.

Marvolo turned to it. There was a dark figure in the highest window, a silhouette behind a curtain like a shadow puppet.

He squinted at it. Quickly, it was gone.

The front door to the manor opened without him having to knock.

* * *

Bellatrix Black—no, Lestrange (it was Lestrange no matter how many times she almost intentionally forgot during the seven years since her wedding day)—was twenty-five years old. Too old to be home with mummy and daddy.

Yet her she was, sitting at the window sill of her childhood bedroom. The dolls on the shelves, untouched for over a decade, stared at her. The titles of dusty books did, too.

The room was the same as how she had left it to go off to Hogwarts when she was eleven years old. She had not bothered to redecorate in the summers and winters since; she knew that as soon as she graduated she would move in with her husband.

And where was dear Rodolphus Lestrange, anyway? Off doing business in France with his younger brother and his father. No need to bring a woman along, even his wife.

That was the way of things. Men and women had separate spheres, orbiting each other but never breaching. Tradition. As pure as pure blood.

Bellatrix was watching the window, waiting for the sun to set.

When it got dark, she would venture out into the nearby muggle town to find a temporary cure for the boredom of being a housewife, and visiting her parents who were basically senile in their fifties and still distraught over the disowning of their middle daughter, Andromeda, who had married that Mudblood Bellatrix had forgotten the name of.

She looked away from the sun in the gray sky, stubbornly not setting, to look down at the dark figure approaching the manor.

She did not recognize him.

Immediately, she tensed, long fingers tightening around her wand.

Very few people knew the location of the Black Manor. Fewer than the few that knew about Grimmauld Place, which was a secret itself.

Could this man be an attacker? Would she have to defend herself, her family and her property?

Finally something exciting! Bellatrix's heart was pounding in her chest under the black dress she wore.

The man looked up at her.

Quickly, Bellatrix darted away from the window, pressing her back flat against the faded wallpaper. She would hide and ambush this invader and—

The door creaked open.

"I saw you coming up the path, it's been so long since we've had a visitor." Her mother. Foolish enough in her grief to open the door to a stranger.

"Tom? Tom Riddle? Is that you?" Her father. He knew this stranger.

Bellatrix removed herself from the wall and lay down on the floor, ear to the hardwood boards. She listened to the conversation occurring two floors beneath her, muffled by the distance.

* * *

The faces that greeted Marvolo with shock were those of Cygnus Black, who he had expected, and of Druella Rosier—now Black, as she had been for the past three decades, it seemed. Marvolo was not surprised, the two had been promised to each other from birth.

At least Cygnus had not married his cousin like his sister Walburga had in her union to Orion. The Blacks were attractive people, but aged poorly and died young. There was a sting of madness in them, as well as a host of physical ailments more and more resistant to potions as generations passed.

Marvolo was impressed by the Old Families dedication to keeping their blood pure. It was the right thing to do, after all, but there had to be a better way. There were pureblood wizards and witches all over the world.

Once Lord Voldemort had taken it over, uniting it under Pureblood Wizarding Rule, he would solve the problem of inbreeding by marrying the purebloods of different countries to one another. That would also serve to strengthen ties between countries, and so his world rule and then—

All these details were for a later time. England first. An army first. A soldier first.

 _Bellatrix Lestrange_ first.

"Call me Marvolo." Marvolo told Cygnus and Druella.

They glanced at each other in brief confusion, but nodded at Marvolo in acceptance. They had always done what he had told them to, back at Hogwarts. Even then he was not someone to be refused. They knew he was the most powerful wizard of their generation.

"We thought you were dead." Cygnus admitted, "We heard you had joined the Grindelwald Army and that they killed you for killing their leader."

"Rumors." Marvolo dismissed, with the wave of his hand. His wand was in the pocket of his black robes, beneath the robes, a suit.

It was unnerving to see how Mr. and Mrs. Black looked now.

The once exquisite beauty, Druella, had streaks of gray in her blonde hair that looked unwashed. She wore a dowdy nightgown, even though it was almost dinner time, as if she had just pulled herself from bed.

Cygnus, once the dapper gentleman, wore casual robes instead of dressrobes. He was home in the middle of a weekday—he must have quit or been fired from his Ministry of Magic post.

The married couple looked like age and depression.

"You look so young…" Druella commented in bitter awe.

She reached towards Marvolo's face, smooth and pale, but then changed the trajectory of her wrinkled hand to stroke her own wrinkled face. Cygnus snatched her wrist and yanked her hand down.

"We weren't expecting company or we would've made the house—and _ourselve_ s—more presentable." He informed his former classmate.

At least he had some semblance of dignity left.

"Where are the House Elves?" Marvolo wondered.

He glanced past the middle-aged couple into the dimly-lit manor behind them.

The sittingroom furniture was draped with white sheets, making the couches and armchairs look like oddly shaped ghosts. The diningroom table had crumbs and several Daily Prophet editions strewn across its stained tablecloth. The spiraling staircase separating the two rooms had broken railing, making it dangerous.

Druella and Cygnus glanced at each other again, this time more awkwardly, before looking back at Marvolo.

"When our former daughter who we no longer speak of betrayed our family and became a Blood Traitor," Druella attempted, "Our eldest daughter, Bella…well, she was understandably upset and so she…"

"She killed them." Cygnus declared, swallowing.

Marvolo could not discern whether the shame on their faces was from the betrayal of one daughter or from the murders of House Elves by the other.

"She used an Unforgivable Curse?" he asked.

Druella shook her messy-haired head, blue eyes wide "No. She killed them with a knife."

At that, Marvolo chuckled.

Horace Slughorn had not failed him, he had provided him with the perfect student. The Potions Professor must have known what kind of witch Bellatrix Lestrange was when he recommended her, of all his current and former students.

Cygnus and Druella were offput but Marvolo's brief, quiet laughter.

He stopped, and said "How interesting. When can I meet her?"

Cygnus and Druella were even more offput by the request.

There was a creak on the spiraling staircase behind them. Their wrinkled heads whipped around to look.

Marvolo stared upwards at the source of the sound.

There, a young woman with long black hair wearing a short black dress, stood at the top of the steps. She smiled a smile of passion and fire.

"You wanted to meet me, Mr. Marvolo?"

* * *


	2. The Dark Lord

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. Marvolo transitions to Lord Voldemort next chapter. This one got too long.

“I’ve heard about you.” Bellatrix told the dark-haired, red-eyed man. “We’ve _all_ heard about you. The most powerful wizard of my parents’ generation—according to my parents’ generation, anyway.”

“You don’t believe that?” Marvolo asked, raising an eyebrow.

“All I know is stories I’ve been told.” Bellatrix said, “And what I’ve read in the paper.”  

She gestured to the pile of Daily Prophet editions on the diningroom table. Her mother, Druella, had stacked them neatly so that she and their guest, Mr. Marvolo, could sit down at the long mahogany table and have afternoon tea.

Bellatrix listened to it whistle from behind the closed door to the next room. She shot a quick glance at her mother.

Her mother nodded from where she had stood next to the table and quickly turned, hurrying into the kitchen, the door swinging open and then closed again, behind her.

Marvolo watched this scene, intrigued.

Bellatrix sat at the head of the long table, instead of her father, who sat to her right. Her mother had rushed to get the tea as if she had replaced the House Elves that Bellatrix had killed.

“What did the papers say?” Marvolo asked. Being out of the country for so long he had not been able to read the Daily Prophet. He doubted that anything in their articles was true.

Marvolo sat across from Bellatrix at the table’s other head. A curtained window cut into the dreary wallpapered wall behind him, overlooking the overgrown lawn.

“They said that _Tom Riddle_ taught at Durmstrang for five years before resigning for unknown reasons.” Bellatrix recounted, “Father said it was because you joined the Grindelwald Followers, isn’t that right?”

She turned to her father.

Cygnus nodded, “My brother-in-law Everett Rosier, Druella’s brother, told me that.”

Marvolo had once considered Everett Rosier a friend, as much as man like him could have friends. He had written that letter to Rosier requesting Rosier to join him in Germany.

Rosier had not replied and had not come.

Marvolo wondered who _else_ Rosier had told about what he had been doing there…

“It’s true.” He confirmed, “What else did the Prophet say?”

“That aurors suspect you of ordering the seemingly random attacks on wizards and muggles by giants and werewolves.” Bellatrix reported. “Is that true as well?”

Marvolo’s red eyes blinked in surprise.

Yes, that was also true. But how could anyone, even the aurors, have possibly known that?

…unless there was a spy among the alliance of magical beings that met every year in the mountains now. Probably a centaurs. They were too close to Dumbledore…

 “Who wrote that?” Marvolo asked.

“Rita Skeeter.” Bellatrix named, “She graduated the same year as I did from Hogwarts. A Slytherin, but not from an old Pureblood family. I didn’t associate with her.”

Druella Black returned from the kitchen, door swinging open without her pushing it. The teapot and four teacups floated beside her. She held up her wand, directing them.

Three cups lowered themselves onto the table in front of Bellatrix, Marvolo and Cygnus. The floating teapot deposited steaming liquid into each.

Bellatrix reached for hers first. Picking it up and taking a small sip, she immediately hissed and slammed the teacup back down onto the table, spilling some of its warm contents onto the surface of the table. The newspapers quickly soaked it up.

“It’s too hot!” she snapped, “Can’t you do anything right, Mother?!”

“I’m sorry, Bella.” Druella apologize, eyes lowered to the level of the teacups on the table.

She flicked her wand. The steam rising from the three cups vanished, the liquid they emitted from suddenly cool.

Bellatrix picked up her cup again and took another sip. “Ah, that’s better…you can leave now, Mother. Father too.”

Druella nodded, it was almost a bow. She scurried out of the diningroom.

Slowly, as if his bones ached, Cygnus rose from his chair at the long table.

“Bella.” He nodded at his daughter. Then, he turned to Marvolo, “Tom.”

 _“Marvolo.”_ Marvolo corrected, stopping himself before he said ‘Lord Voldemort’.

He watched as Cygnus trudged out of the room. So did Bella. With a wave of her wand, in the hand not holding her teacup, she closed the door after her parents.

Then, she turned to face Marvolo, again.

Behind her was a wall of family portraits.

Cygnus was regal in his, unlike the depressed and defeated old man that had slouched in his wooden chair next to his daughter and obeyed her commands. Druella was beautiful and young in hers, a queen, rather than the disheveled servant waiting on her daughter in her nightgown.

The portrait of Bellatrix did resemble the young woman across the table from Marvolo, though. She had her father’s dark hair and eye color, and her mother’s severe facial features.

Yet even the young woman in the flesh was more faded than the young woman made of moving paint.

It made sense, of course.

The young woman in the portrait was Bellatrix _Black,_ the promising student and alluring seductress _._ The young woman in the chair was Bellatrix _Lestrange_ , the bored housewife trapped at her parents’ home while her husband was away _._

There were two more portraits hung on the peeling wallpaper. One was a blonde young woman. The other was ripped and splattered with a stain that had faded to brown but had obviously once been red blood.

Bellatrix noticed Marvolo looking at it.

“That’s bloodtraitor.” She explained, “So I thought it was fitting to debase her image with blood, as she debased herself with that of a mudblood.”

“It’s House Elves’ blood?” Marvolo suspected.

Bellatrix nodded. “Androm— _the traitor_ cared for them just like she does muggles. She has a halfblood brat now.”

Marvolo tensed at the word ‘halfblood’, gripping his teacup slightly.

Bellatrix noticed this and misinterpreted. “You’re wondering why I punished the House Elves in her place? It’s not because I have any love left for my former sister. She, her mudblood husband, and their halfbreed are under Albus Dumbledore’s protection.”

“Albus Dumbledore.” Marvolo repeated the name with scorn.

“A bloodtraitor himself.” Bellatrix declared, “Though the most powerful one.”

Marvolo took a sip of cold tea and changed the subject. “Why don’t you have any children? You’ve been married long enough.”

Bellatrix smirked. “Maybe my husband’s impotent.”

The portrait of her face behind her smirked, too.

“Where is he?” Marvolo asked.

“France.” Bellatrix informed, “His father does business there.”

“I knew Reynard Lestrange at Hogwarts.” Marvolo recalled. “Hopefully he is a better businessman than he is a wizard.”

Bellatrix laughed. “He is. So is my husband. Their money makes up for their lack of magical abilities—at least in my parents’ eyes when they made the match.”

“You haven’t had any children because you don’t want them to be weak.” Marvolo realized.

Bellatrix nodded. “Weak sons are even worse than daughters.”

“Why did you marry him?” Marvolo wondered. If she was ordering her parents around he doubted they could have forced her into an arranged marriage.

“Tradition.” Bellatrix said. “That is as important to me as pure blood. I believe in something greater than myself. Whatever frivolous, fleeting pleasures I could’ve gotten from being a single woman are nothing compared to the deep joy and pride I feel from doing my duty as a pureblood.”

Marvolo took a breath, considering her words. They sounded good, eloquent—but did she really mean them?

“You haven’t brought any pureblood life into this world.” He reminded her.

“Well, then, I guess I’ll have to do my duty as a pureblood in another way.” Bellatrix sighed, resting her elbow on the table and her chin in the palm of her hand, “Isn’t that why you’re here, Mr. Marvolo?”

Marvolo nodded. “I’m putting together an army. I already have tentative support from many in Albania, in Eastern Europe, and in Germany—but not the Grindewald loyalists anymore, unfortunately. But I need troops here.”

“You won’t have any trouble finding them.” Bellatrix assured, “Almost all the Purebloods hate the current regime. First, Eugenia Jenkins raised taxes on the rich—deliberately targeting the old Pureblood families. And now her replacement Harold Minchum is even worse as Minister of Magic. My father-in-law had to move his business to France because of Minchum’s new regulations.”

“Why hasn’t anyone already organized a movement?” Marvolo inquired.

“Why hasn’t someone else or why haven’t _I?”_ Bellatrix checked.

“Both.” Marvolo clarified.

“I’m a woman.” Bellatrix reminded, with a shrug, “Nobody would follow me.”

“And the men?” Marvolo followed-up.

“They’re all cowards.” Bellatrix spat, “Too afraid and too comfortable to fight back because they fear the Ministry will seize the rest of their money and assets.”

“You’re not?” Marvolo asked.

Bellatrix shrugged. “What do I need money for when I have my pure blood?”

Marvolo rolled his red eyes at this.

The pureblood princess had not grown up poor like he had. She had no idea what she was talking about. Still, he appreciated her commitment.

“The old Pureblood families are outnumbered despite their wealth.” He stated, “That is why the Ministry of Magic is taking the side of the mudbloods and bloodtraitors, there are more of them. A traditionalist can’t win an election anymore. It will have to come to war.”

Bellatrix smiled. “I know. It’s what I’ve been hoping for my whole life.”

Her eyes, like black fires, burned into Marvolo’s. Then, she gazed past the dark wizard at the window behind him. Beyond the curtains and glass, the now orange sun was finally starting to set.

* * *

 

The car was older than the young man driving it but not old enough or in good enough condition to be a classic. It was a piece of junk once belonging to his father.

It sputtered down the country road in desperate need of fuel.

It was night.

The headlights illuminated the road ahead but the overgrown fields surrounding the highway were a dark mystery. There were no streetlamps in the middle of nowhere.

The radio kept the young man and his girlfriend awake.

A new Sex Pistols song played. _God Save the Queen._

The young man bobbed his head and tapped the steeringwheel in his hands. Politics and sarcasm always went so well together.

His girlfriend was staring out the window to her left, it was open so the wind was blowing her long brown hair. 

Suddenly, she pointed her arm out the window. “Look! A petrol station!”

The young man glanced over. Glowing in the darkness of the overgrown fields and the night was a lone petrol station.

Then, he glanced at his car dashboard’s fuel meter. Almost empty.

He swerved the steeringwheel of the beat up old car and pulled into the gas station.

* * *

 

Bellatrix Black Lestrange and Tom Marvolo Riddle stared down at the muggles they had captured. A male and a female. They were paralyzed, unable to move or to speak, but they were fully conscious and staring right back up at the witch and wizard who had captured them.

The four were inside the petrol station’s little convenience store. Its owner lay behind the counter. Dead.

The captives were propped up against the glass doors of the refrigerators where the cold drinks were kept. Their captors stood in front of the shelves of snackfood.

Bellatrix turned to Marvolo.

“What do you want me to do with them?” she asked.

“What do you usually do?” he returned.

She smirked. “Well, first, I’d take them out into the fields. Then, I’d unparalyze them so they could run, and I’d give them a five minute headstart. I’m sure you can figure out what happens next.”

Marvolo nodded. “I have the imagination. Though I can’t see why you’d enjoy that. A cat chasing a mouse is still an animal. Man tames the beasts and puts them down when they’re no longer of use.”

“And wizard tames muggle.” Bellatrix added, “Doesn’t mean we can’t play with our pets first before we slaughter our livestock.”

The big brown eyes of the two captives widened in horror. It made them look more like cattle.

Bellatrix grinned, eyeing them eagerly.

“Do you know the Unforgiveable Curses, Bellatrix?” Marvolo asked.

Upon hearing his voice, Bellatrix faced him again. “They told us about them in Hogwarts, as you know. They also told us never to use them—not even to practice.”

“So, naturally, you practiced.” Marvolo guessed.

Bellatrix’s grin grew. “A little. Just out of curiosity.”

“I bet a lot of House Elves went missing from Hogwarts that year.” Marvolo mused.

“Cats and owls, actually.” Bellatrix corrected. “Do you want me to show you?”

She was staring down at the captives again. The intensity of her gaze was unnerving.

To Marvolo, killing was a means to an end. He did not enjoy and it did not bother him, either. He felt nothing at the sight or the thought of death—unless it was his own life in danger.

Bellatrix, however, seemed to enjoy the idea and act of not only killing but the pain and fear leading up to it. She could never be just a soldier following orders. She would always be a predator stalking the whiff of blood.

Marvolo shook his head, dark hair shaking with it. “No. I want you to take them out into the field.”

* * *

 

It was early, early morning, before sunrise, when Marvolo and Bellatrix returned to the Black Manor. The house was as dark as the world outside.

The darkness felt comfortable to Bellatrix. After all it was home.

Her hair was black, her eyes were black, and her name was Black (no matter who she married).

Her black dress was stained with dirt and blood, her black boots caked with mud. The filth tracked onto the creaking floorboards of the old manor house. She stepped out of her shoes, leaving them by the door.

Her parents were hopefully asleep in their bedroom on the second floor, though it did not matter. They would not ask her where she had been, they never did.

Marvolo’s robes were clean. He had only watched.

And Bellatrix wanted him to keep watching.

As soon as they had entered through the front door, Bellatrix started up the spiraling stairs towards the third floor.

“I’m going to get cleaned up.” She said, the back buttons of her dress magically unclasping as she ascended the steps.

It was an obvious invitation.

How long had Rodolphus Lestrange been away on business and how impotent was he really that his wife was behaving this way?

Marvolo watched Bellatrix climb the stairs from the foyer, front door closed behind him. She stopped when she realized he was not following her, and glanced back at him.

“It’s late.” She added, “You can stay the night. The traitor’s room is empty now. It’s on the third floor…right next to mine.”

Marvolo almost snorted.

How much more forward would she be? He wondered if she had ever been rejected by a man before. Probably not.

She was beautiful, that was undeniable. And even if, for some reason, a man did not think so, he would be too afraid to face her wrath to ever refuse her.

But Marvolo was not afraid of his classmate’s daughter, as crazy as she was.

“I already have somewhere I’m staying.” Marvolo refused, “I’ll return tomorrow. It was good to meet you, Mrs. Lestrange.”

“It was my pleasure, Mr. _Riddle.”_ Bellatrix replied, flipping her long black hair behind her, onto her back, exposed by the open buttons.

She then turned her back to him and continued up the spiraling staircase. The dress remained on the steps as she disappeared upwards into the third floor.

Marvolo took one last look at the black garment and then apparated away.

* * *

 

The next morning, Bellatrix was chomping her buttered toast while reading the Daily Prophet when Marvolo came through the front door, without knocking. He found her in the diningroom at the head of the long table where she had sat yesterday.

She did not even look up from the newspaper when she heard his footsteps creak on the dirty floorboards.

“Good morning, Mr. Riddle.” She greeted, still chewing the last bites of toast.

She was wearing her nightgown. It was not at all dowdy like her mother’s had been yesterday.

The fact that Bellatrix had not bothered to get dressed that morning even though she knew he would be here made Marvolo realize that she was not taking him seriously.

She probably was not even attracted to him, just toying with him out of boredom. She saw him as one of the muggles she chased in the fields.

It would have been offensive if it was not so funny. If only she knew who he was. Who he would be.

…well, she would find out soon enough.

“Marvolo.” He corrected. “But soon that will change.”

Now, her dark eye glanced up over the paper in her hand. “To what?”

“You’ll learn when the time comes.” He dismissed. “Everyone will. I’ll be their lord and master.”

Bellatrix eyed skeptically him from behind the Daily Prophet. Her portrait was eyeing him, too, though the painting’s gaze was more intrigued than skeptical.

 “So far, Mr. Marvolo,” said Bellatrix in the flesh (and the nightgown that revealed too much of it) “you’ve done nothing to prove you’re the powerful dark wizard you claim to be.”

“You must believe me you or you wouldn’t still be entertaining me at your home.” Marvolo reasoned.

 _“You’re_ entertaining _me.”_ Bellatrix said, folding the newspaper and setting it down on the table. “But my husband will return from France soon and I’ll have to go be his wife again. _Unless…”_

“You want me to prove myself to you?” Marvolo snorted, “What makes you think you’re worth that?”

Bellatrix Lestrange was young, still in her twenties. And a woman, too…

The Dark Lord Voldemort did not have to prove himself to a little girl.

But right now, Marvolo was not the Dark Lord Voldemort. Not here, anyway. Not yet.

“You want to build an army.” Bellatrix reminded. “If you want me and the rest of my generation of Purebloods to follow you, you have to show me why you’re worth following. We need a savior. We don’t need another false god like Grindelwald.”

What she was saying made sense.

Still, she had not yet even been born by the time Gellert Grindelwald had ascended to power and been struck down by former friend Albus Dumbledore. What did she really know of false gods and saviors?

“So what is your test?” Marvolo wondered, “Do I have to duel you? I bet you’ve beaten older wizards and witches before. But I’d beat you. It would be easy. Or do I have to chase muggles through the fields like an animal?”

Bellatrix rose from her seat. She picked up her want from the mahogany table.

“I want to see Dark Magic.” She requested, “Something ancient. Something secret. Something I’ve never seen before. _That_ will prove to me that I couldn’t just replace you with any old wizard with a wand as our champion.”

Marvolo nodded. “Alright. Where did you bury the House Elves?”

* * *

 

There was a chipped stone fountain in the backyard of the Black Manor. Its once clear and flowing water was now muddy and still.

The fish had all died around the same time as the House Elves. They floated rotting in the brown water.

With a flash of her wand, the tall grasses bowed to Bellatrix, clearing a space. She turned to face Marvolo, standing behind her.

He sniffed in disgust at the smell of rotting fish and the general state of the backyard. “How could you let your property fall into such a state?”

“It isn’t my property.” Bellatrix shrugged, “As a woman, I won’t inherit when my father dies. His closest male relative will. That would be his brother Alphard Black. Neither my mother nor my husband can inherit, either. It has to be a Black. The spell on the deed is too powerful to break. And even if it wasn’t, it’s still tradition.”

“Is this ‘tradition’, too?” Marvolo asked, gesturing at the dilapidated fountain.

The open beak of the stone bird in the center of the fountain was chipped. It where the water was supposed to spurt from but instead it gurgled on dead leaves as if it was choking on decay.

“My parents haven’t been the same since my sister became a bloodtraitor.” Bellatrix explained.

She started across the flattened grass towards the gazebo. One of its pillars had fallen, so its roof was slanted. She stopped when her slippers stood on raised ground.

She pointed her want at the bump of dirt. She backed away from it as it began to peel from the rest of the ground like a scab.

The peeled bump revealed the rotting corpses of House Elves.

Marvolo watched. He brought a hand up to cover his nose at the stench, in that moment wishing he no longer had one.

“Disgusting.” He said.

Bellatrix turned to him, gesturing at the dead elves, “What are you planning to do with them?”

Marvolo did not respond with words. Instead he waved his wand and muttered an ancient incantation he did not want her to hear.

The utterance was old and Germanic. He did not know the Latin-based equivalent, if there even was one.

Now, it was Bellatrix who watched as the House Elves rose from their shallow graves. Her eyes widened—not in horror, but in fascination.

“Necromancy!” she sputtered, “Nobody’s been able to accomplish that since Grindelwald. _How?”_

“I may teach you one day.” Marvolo responded, “If I find you worthy.”

Bellatrix glanced behind her. The rotting fish were swimming in the muddy fountain.

She looked back at Marvolo. “Can you do it with humans?”

“I have.” Marvolo stated, “I could have shown you with the muggles you killed, but you damaged their corpses so much that they would have been unable to stand.”

Bellatrix smiled at the memory. She turned at the older wizard, then at the risen House Elves, standing at attention.

“Make them dance.” She said, eyes and grin wide and burning with black fire.

Marvolo just looked at her.

“No.” he refused.

He waved his wand again. The House Elves dropped back down into their grave, bodies once again limp and lifeless.

Bellatrix’s smile fell. Her expression was now fighting between confusion, shock, disappointment and anger.

At that, Marvolo smirked. Maybe he was the first person in her life to ever tell her ‘no’.

 _“No?”_ Bellatrix repeated, eyes wide again, this time in disbelief, “You’re supposed to be proving yourself to—“

Marvolo pointed his wand at her, striding forward so that he could hold it at her neck.

She backed up, slightly, but felt the grave of the House Elves behind her. One more backwards step and she would fall in with them.

She looked up at Marvolo standing over her, wand to her neck. It was only then she noticed that he was taller than her.

“You’ve never been put in your place before have you?” he guessed, half disdainful and half curious.

She could have raised her wand, of course. But she did not.

Instead, what Bellatrix did next surprised Marvolo. She dropped her wand. It landed in the flattened grass beside her feet.

And then, her knees when she dropped to them.

“I should never have doubted you.” she declared, “You are the Dark Savior we’ve been waiting for.”

No,” Marvolo corrected, “the Dark _Lord.”_


	3. I Am Lord Voldemort

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Most of the info's from the wiki.

Druella Black and Bellatrix Lestrange had finally dressed in something other than nightgowns that afternoon, dressrobes. The former cleared the diningroom table. Now, the latter gave up its head to the new Dark Lord.

Marvolo looked out at those sitting before him at the long block of mahogany under the dim candlelight.

On one side, Orion Black, Walburga Black, Cygnus Black, and Druella Black. On the other side, Abraxas Malfoy, Lucerna Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy (formerly Black).

Bellatrix paced around and around the long table excitedly, like she was a prophet heralding the new god.

Narcissa was watching her older sister instead of facing the mysterious man at the head of the table that everyone else could not help but stare at.

"Could you please sit down, Bella?" she hissed, "You're making me dizzy, circling the table like that."

Bellatrix sighed, rolling her dark eyes. She completed a final circle, stopping in front of the only open chair, at the other end of table, and sinking into its cushion.

"Happy now, Cissy?" she asked her younger sister in annoyance.

Narcissa smiled politely, if not a bit smugly. Very few people successfully told Bellatrix what to do—and those very few rarely ever included Narcissa.

Her father-in-law, Abraxas Malfoy, looked the least pleased to be here, not sitting at the head of the table _and_ subjected to the filth and dilapidation of the old Black Manor. Even in the building's heyday, it was never as lavish and grand as his own mansion, but its current state was extremely beneath him.

Abraxas' ponytailed once-blond hair had faded to white, the same color as his dressrobes. He folded his arms as his gray eyes glared over at Bellatrix.

"Mrs. Lestrange, now that you're seated, are you going to inform us why we're here and who this man is?" he gestured at Marvolo, seating next to him at the head of the table.

Marvolo raised an eyebrow, "You don't recognize me, Abraxas?"

Abraxas turned away from Bellatrix to face the man who had spoken. "Should I?"

"You knew me as Tom Riddle during our time at Hogwarts." Marvolo reminded.

Abraxas blinked in surprise at that. Then, he narrowed his eyes.

Yes, the man sitting at the head of the table did somewhat resemble Tom Riddle…but Tom Riddle's eyes had been blue, not red, and this pale wizard looked far too young to have been his classmate.

Orion and Walburga Black surveyed Marvolo with similar surprise and suspicion.

Neither the Blacks nor the Malfoys had been friends with Tom Riddle—or any halfblood, for that matter. His closest 'friends' at Hogwarts had been Antonin Dolohov, Everett Rosier, Myrdin Mulciber and Tye Nott, who were not as wealthy and so more eager to follow orders.

Still, the Malfoys and the Blacks had been in Slytherin with Tom Riddle, and knew that he was the most powerful student in the house, if not the entire school, at that time.

"And who—or what—are you now?" Abraxas wondered, eyeing Marvolo's almost-white skin and blood-red eyes.

"Everett told me he became a vampire." Lucerna declared. She wore white dressrobes, like her husband.

"That's not what our brother said!" Druella clarified quickly, sitting across the table from her sister, "He said Tom _joined_ them—not _became_ one of them."

"How do you join them if you're not one of them?" Lucerna reasoned. "Either way, they're not Purebloods—they're not even _human."_

Sitting next to each other, Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy grimaced at the arguing older women. Being married to a cousin meant never being able to avoid family squabbles like this one.

Narcissa was blonde like her mother Druella and aunt Lucerna were. Lucius, blond like both his parents, had married a blonde, like both his parents.

The cousin couple looked like siblings—except that the Malfoy blond was silvery, while the Rosier blonde of Druella and Lucerna more was golden, and Lucius's eyes were gray like his father's while Narcissa's eyes were blue like her mother's and aunt's.

Druella and Lucerna continued to snap back and forth across the table at each other until Marvolo finally interrupted.

"You two can tell your brother to stop spreading rumors about me." He said, first, then turned back to Abraxas, "And to answer your question, Abraxas, who and what I am now is exactly what I called this meeting to discuss."

"Alright." Abraxas accepted, evenly, "Discuss it, then."

The richest man in the room he could be as short and as rude with his speech as he wanted to be.

Malfoy Family money was even older than Black Family money. They had been kings of muggles when the Blacks had merely been lords, before the Wizarding World went into secrecy. And after that, they had started an apothecary and had financed a goblin named Gringott in establishing a bank.

Before Marvolo could speak, Bellatrix leaped from her chair. "You should be more polite to the Dark Lord, Mr. Malfoy."

All those seated at the table, save for Marvolo, gasped. No one had ever snapped at Abraxas Malfoy like that.

"Bella!" Narcissa cried, blue eyes wide, "That's my father-in-law! Apologize!"

This time, Bellatrix did not obey her sister's command. She instead, stared across the long mahogany table at Marvolo expectantly as she slowly sat back down.

Marvolo glared through the dimness at her. She had just robbed him of making the announcement that he was the 'Dark Lord'.

Abraxas' expression did not look offended. Instead, it was intrigued.

"The Dark Lord?" he checked, glancing at Bellatrix, then turning back to Marvolo.

Marvolo nodded.

"I spent the last twenty years studying the Dark Arts all over Europe." He informed, "I know everything Gellert Grindelwald knew, as well as things he did not. Things no one has known for centuries."

"Like what?" Abraxas asked, raising a silverblond eyebrow.

Marvolo tensed. He did not want to reveal the horcruxes, and Grindelwald had also known how to make inferi…so what could he tell the older Malfoy and the entire table to prove to them his power?

The basilisk!

"Remember that giant spider belonging to the half-giant that attacked Hogwarts while we attended?" Marvolo recalled, to which the older occupants of the table nodded, "Well, it wasn't really a spider and it wasn't really the half-giant responsible."

Abraxas, Lucerna, Druella, Cygnus, Walburga and Orion furrowed their foreheads, glancing at each other in confusion, before looking back at Marvolo at the head of the table.

"You're saying it was you who was responsible?" Abraxas guessed.

"It was my basilisk." Marvolo declared, "I inherited it, being the last descendent of Salazar Slytherin. He hid the beast in a secret chamber under the school. I set it free and ordered it to attack the mudbloods. I only returned it to its hiding place to prevent the school from being shut down."

"The creature's still down there?!" Walburga Black exclaimed, "My sons are at Hogwarts! They're in danger! What if it gets out again?"

"What's wrong with you, Riddle?" added Orion Black, sitting next to his cousin-wife, across from Abraxas, on the other side of Marvolo. "I thought you were smart. How could you possibly think setting a basilisk free in the school was a good idea?"

The husband and wife looked alike with dark hair and dark eyes. That was because they too were married cousins.

"…it was a youthful mistake." Marvolo admitted, "But one that proves my birthright to lead the Purebloods and my commitment to the cause of Pureblood Supremacy."

"But you're not even a Pureblood…" Lucerna reminded.

At that, it was Bellatrix who gasped. She jumped up from her chair, again. "Of course he is! How dare you?!"

Narcissa's face turned pink. "She's my mother-in-law, Bella! My mother-in-law!"

"Sit down." Marvolo ordered, "What the woman said is true."

Bellatrix's dark eyes and red mouth widened in shock as she sank back down into her seat. "But how? You're so powerful…"

"And think of how much more powerful I would have been had my mother not been so foolish as to fall in love with a muggle." Marvolo said, bitterly, "She debased the pure and powerful blood of Salazar Slytherin. Ever since I found out, it's been my life's mission make sure that never happens again, to any other pureblood lineage."

"And how do you intend to accomplish that?" Abraxas Malfoy inquired.

"The plan is simple." Marvolo declared, matter-of-factly, "We cause panic amongst the wizarding public by killing mudbloods and bloodtraitors. When the Ministry of Magic attempts to respond, we make the officials join us or we kill them—including the Minister of Magic. Then, the people will have no faith in the Ministry and be too afraid to fight back when we topple it and establish our own government."

" _We?"_ Abraxas repeated.

"I need an army and I need funds." Marvolo continued, "All of you at this table have money and wands, I'm hoping you can spare at least one of the two."

His red eyes gazed out at the purebloods sitting at the long mahogany table, looking back at him. This time, it was the younger Malfoy, Abraxas' son Lucius, who spoke up.

"Good plan, but why should we follow you?" Lucius Malfoy questioned, "Even if you are a descendent of Slytherin, you're still a halfblood."

For a third time, Bellatrix was out of her chair. "And yet he's twice the wizard you'll ever be!"

"And still my husband!" Narcissa cried, "Doesn't family mean anything to you anymore, Bella? Don't manners?"

Lucius sniffed in offense at Bellatrix's words, then put a white-robed arm around his wife. "Don't let your sister upset you, dear, she's clearly mad as she's signed her loyalty away to a halfblood."

Bellatrix drew her wand and aimed it across the table at Lucius. "I'll show you 'mad', brother-in-law."

His gray eyes widened in fear, staring at the wand pointed at his face. He knew that even if his wand was not in the pocket of his dressrobes and instead in his hand, pointed at his assailant, he was still powerless against Bellatrix Lestrange.

Abraxas glanced at his son, then at Bellatrix, then at Cygnus. "Cygnus, control your daughter."

Cygnus shrugged weakly and apologetically at Abraxas. "I'm sorry, Abraxas, you know how she is."

"Yes," Abraxas noted, "That's why I made sure it was the submissive one that married my son. I don't know how you and your wife managed to talk the Lestranges into taking her off your hands."

Lucerna snickered at her husband's comment. Druella glared across the table at her sister with her tired eyes.

Marvolo watched the scene, sighing to himself as he wondered if he had asked the wrong witches and wizards to help him with his plans.

Finally, he cleared his throat and stood.

"The Ministry of Magic, and the Wizarding World as a whole, have become increasingly inundated with impure blood and policies that favor that impurity by stealing privileges rightfully belonging to the Pureblood. You old families, descendants of great and powerful wizards, have two choices now. Fade further into powerless and poverty…"

He gestured at the peeling wallpaper of the dusty diningroom, only one symptom of the disheveling sickness set upon the Black Manor.

"…or follow me and reestablish the rightful order."

The purebloods in the room looked at the halfblood who had spoken. Bellatrix sat down again so that he was the only one standing.

"So?" Marvolo concluded, "What do you decide?"

He looked at Abraxas Malfoy. It would be him that ultimately made the decision for all the Old Pureblood Families.

Abraxas rose from his seat, slowly, since he was getting old unlike his classmate Tom Riddle had. He then turned to address those still seated at the long mahogany table.

"I say we join him." He decided, "I've removed a minister before, I can do it again."

His son and wife gasped.

"But he's a halfblood!" Lucerna tried.

"But father!" Lucius tried.

Abraxas held up one hand, empty of wand, and they were silenced.

"Enough." He said, "His blood may not be pure but his beliefs are. The fact that he's willing to fight for them despite not being what they exalt proves that. This is exactly the kind of wizard we need leading us."

Marvolo smiled. So did Bellatrix.

Abraxas pulled his wand from his white pocket. One wave and glasses of millennium-aged wine sat in front of each person at the long table.

He lifted his first, "A toast. To Tom Riddle, the new Dark Lord."

All the wizards and witches at the table lifted their glasses—except for Marvolo.

"No." He shook his head. "Not 'Tom Riddle' anymore. _Lord Voldemort."_

Abraxas glanced at him, nodding. "To Voldemort, the new Dark Lord."

They all drank.

* * *

"I want this house clean." Bellatrix demanded, "The floors shined, the walls scrubbed, the cobwebs dusted—I'll hunt down and kill the vermin myself."

Druella and Cygnus Black nodded dutifully at their daughter. They did not mention how orders revealed she knew nothing about cleaning—neither did they, in fact, they had always had House Elves for that.

Still, they got to work casting spells that cleaned and fixed up the dilapidated Black Manor.

It had to be perfect. Restored to its former glory.

They were having a party.

Orion and Walburga Black apparated him to Grimmauld Place, then returned quickly through the long-unused library fireplace with their House Elf Kreacher.

Grumbling, he began helping Cygnus and Druella clean the old house.

Lucerna sat on one of the now uncovered couches of the sittingroom. She giggled while sipping tea and watching in triumph as her sister cleaned like a common servant.

Walburga and Narcissa kept her company, chatting and drinking their own cups of tea. The teapot and coasters sat on the coffeetable in front of them on the antique couch.

The men, meaning Abraxas, Lucius and Orion were still in the diningroom, discussing the earlier meeting and finishing the bottle of thousand-year-old wine.

Their new Dark Lord, Voldemort, had disapparated.

* * *

When he finally returned, a few hours later, he too came through the fireplace using floo powder.

The Black Manor had a protective spell around it that prevented possible assailants or thieves' from apparating into the building. Though, once someone was inside, they could apparated out.

With him, he brought a bag of all his belongings. It was small for a man who had been traveling for two decades.

When he stepped out of the fire, Bellatrix was waiting for him in the dark. The flames, dancing like the shadows they cast, in the fireplace were the only light.

Ceiling-high shelves of books surrounded them. There were no windows in the library.

"My lord." She greeted. Nobody else in the world prayed to their god or saluted their commander with such a grin—or such a sultry tone of voice.

"Bellatrix." Voldemort replied.

"Call me 'Bella'." Bellatrix invited, "Everyone I love does."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow at that.

He wanted to use legilimency to read her mind but at the same time he dreaded what he might see and so did not look. _Yet._

"The way you treat your own family members, I didn't think you were capable of love." He tested.

"People are pretty cruel to the ones they love." Bellatrix replied, "They know they can get away with it. At least when it comes to the ones who love them back."

"But not the ones who don't." Voldemort warned.

Bellatrix raised both eyebrows like she was accepting a challenge.

"So you're taking up my offer of hospitality after all." she noticed, pointing to the bag in Voldemort's hand.

He nodded. "This is my new base of operations. It's regrettable you won't be able to stay for long. You'll have to go home when your husband returns."

"My husband believes in the same things we do." Bellatrix said, "He'd be proud to have me stay and help you. Unless you don't want me here, my lord…"

Her red lips pouted. Feigned and childish.

Is this what she did to get what she wanted when she did not feel like using her wand?

"You've misunderstood me." Voldemort corrected, "Horace Slughorn told me you were his best student. And everything I've witnessed so far has supported what he said. I want you here. I need powerful warriors for my army and I need talented students to train in what I've learned."

It was not exactly the answer Bellatrix wanted, but it was close enough. Once again she grinned.

"You're going to announce yourself to the whole Pureblood community tonight at the party." She reminded, "You need to look good. Did you go and get your dressrobes?"

"I haven't owned dressrobes since Hogwarts." Voldemort dismissed.

Bellatrix's grin grew wider. She had expected this. "My father has extra ones upstairs. You can borrow one. I'll do a tailoring charm so it'll fit you."

* * *

Voldemort was uncomfortable as he stood rigid, the robes tightening then loosening around his body, as Bellatrix's wand tried to get the fitting just right.

They were in one of the two spacious walk-in closets of Cygnus and Druella's master bedroom. This was Cygnus' closet.

All the robes and suits hanging from the racks looked the same. Black. Black. Black. Just like the old family name.

Voldemort stood on the stool in front of the mirror. But it was not his own pale reflection he stared at.

The reflection of Bellatrix Lestrange, carefully attending to his attire caught his eye. She was standing behind him and though she was a powerful witch, she was not particularly good at this tailoring charm. She kept having to adjust her mistakes.

"I bet your mother, or even your sister, could do a better job of this." Voldemort commented. "I know why you wanted to do this yourself."

Bellatrix's dark eyes made eye-contact with his red in the mirror. "Have you read my mind without me noticing, my lord?"

She ran her wand along one of his shoulders, then the back of his neck, then the other shoulder. He shivered. It was obvious and embarrassing.

Voldemort scowled at his reflection, and at Bellatrix.

"Your husband has a mistress in France." He guessed, "Perhaps more than one. That's is why you're acting like this."

Bellatrix cackled. "He probably does, but it's not the reason."

She backed away from Voldemort. He stepped off of the stool and turned around to face her.

"Then why?" he asked, genuinely curious. "It's unbecoming of a Pureblood woman. Especially a married one."

"I should've been born a boy." Bellatrix admitted. "The son and heir my father always wanted. I don't want to be a Pureblood _woman._ Especially not a married one. Men have all the fun."

Voldemort rolled his eyes at that. When he was a little boy living a muggle orphanage he would have gladly traded places with a privileged pureblood witch.

"Life isn't about having fun." He dismissed.

"Doesn't mean you can't enjoy it, anyway." Bellatrix reasoned, "You don't think I'm pretty? Or do you just not like women, my lord?"

She continued to back away from him. Not because she was afraid. No, because the open doors to the walk-in closet were behind her. Beyond them, her parent's bed.

Voldemort sighed.

He had not felt lust since he was a teenager, and even then it was probably just the hormones. He had only ever slept with someone because he wanted something from them.

And there was nothing he wanted from Bellatrix Lestrange that she was not already giving him.

…but, she would never understand that.

"Bellatrix, I'm old enough to be your father." Voldemort attempted an excuse. "I was his classmate at Hogwarts—"

"I've slept with some of his classmates." Bellatrix snorted, "The handsome ones, anyway, and the ones that were good with a wand. Pureblood parties can get wild behind closed doors. You'll see that tonight."

Voldemort grimaced.

He was not a pureblood, so of course, he had never been invited to a pureblood party before. Slytherin was the house of tradition but the aristocracy was always known for decadence…

"You can't do that anymore." Voldemort declared.

For a moment, Bellatrix looked hopeful. "Why, my lord?"

"You're in my army now." Voldemort explained, "It will reflect poorly on me. We have to gain credibility for our movement. Don't ruin this with the crude behavior you've demonstrated since I've met you. You're a member of the highest class of Wizarding Society. Act like it."

Bellatrix blinked her dark eyes in surprise. But then nodded, looking down at the closet carpet, embarrassedly. "Yes, my lord."

"Now get out." Voldemort ordered, "I'll finish fixing this robe myself."

* * *

Bellatrix nodded, it was almost a bow. Without a word, she turned and scurried from the room.

When Lord Voldemort descended the spiraling stairs from the second floor, the cleanliness of the first floor was striking.

Even though the floors and much of the furniture were dark wood, everything seemed to shine. The smell of dust and decay was gone. There was even more color in the rooms and halls, and they were much better lit.

Bellatrix was waiting for him at the bottom of the stairs, leaning against the banister.

"Everyone's outside." She informed him, "They cleaned up the backyard. It's where they're having the party, since it's springtime."

Voldemort nodded.

He noticed Bellatrix had changed out of her dressrobes. She was wearing a black dress again, though it was much more tasteful than the short dress and the nightgown she had previously worn had been.

All she ever seemed to wear was black. It was like she was in mourning.

"You look handsome, by the way." Bellatrix added, "If that's not too forward for me to say, my lord."

The sultry tone of her voice was gone. Now, she sounded respectful, and almost a little fearful.

"Thank you." Voldemort replied.

"What does it mean? The name 'Voldemort'?" Bellatrix questioned, all of a sudden, "Something to do with death, I'm guessing. Latin? French? Is it an old Slytherin family name?"

"It doesn't mean anything." Voldemort dismissed. He did not feel like explaining the name's origins.

"Alright." Bellatrix nodded in acceptance. "We should join the others outside. Before they think anything inappropriate is happening in here."

Voldemort could not tell from her voice whether or not she was being sarcastic. He followed her out of the foyer and down the hall towards the back door.

* * *

The violet and orange sunset only added to the glow of the golden flowers lighting the back lawn of Black Manor. The once tall and yellow grass was manicured and green, cut to reveal a cobblestone path from the manor's back door through the yard.

The path was decorated on both sides with the bright glowing flowers. It led first to the stone fountain, no longer clogged and cracking, and then to the wooden gazebo, no longer rotting and falling apart.

The tables of food and drink were stationed to one side, manned by Kreacher the House Elf. There was more of the thousand-year-old wine from the Malfoy Apothecary cellar.

The party guests had not yet arrived. But they would soon. Though it was extremely short notice, if Abraxas Malfoy invited the Purebloods to a party, even one held at a less fancy mansion than his own, they would be there.

The Malfoys and the Blacks were idling by the wine when Bellatrix and Voldemort existed the manor onto the back lawn.

"You said the old families were too afraid of losing their money to act." Voldemort recalled, as they walked down the cobblestone path towards the others, "Why do you think Abraxas agreed to help me, so easily and so quickly? He has the most to lose if my plan fails and I didn't even need to show him what I showed you in order to convince him."

Bellatrix furrowed her brow in consideration. The thought had not occurred to before, but now it worried her.

"I don't know." she muttered, suspiciously. "But it does seem strange…"


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again. Thanks so much to those who have reviewed so far, I really appreciate it. I hope you like this chapter.
> 
> The 'Sacred 28' are the old pureblood families, according to the Harry Potter Wiki.

Hexes and curses in all colors shot back and forth the backyard of the Black Manor, bright in the dim-lighting of the glowing flowers and the dark night sky above. Stray shots of light struck the spraying bird-shaped fountain. Shouts, cries, laughter and applause rang out.

Pureblood parties often devolved into fights. But that usually happened a lot later at night and after a lot more of the Malfoy bottles of millennium-old wine were consumed.

This fight, however, was not about who slept with whose spouse, or which family had the most bloodtraitors (the Blacks, obviously). No. This fight was a demonstration.

Three against one. Aaron Avery, Todd Travers and Ares Carrow were fighting Tom Riddle—

No. That was not his name anymore. What was it again? Lord Something Or Other…

Everett Rosier could not remember, even though he and his wife, Miriam, had just been informed of the name change by Antonin Dolohov, the scruffy man standing next to them, watching the fight taking place on the freshly cut lawn under the stars.

The black-haired perpetual bachelor was smirking at the fight eagerly.

"I think I'll join the fight." Dolohov considered. He still had a hint of a Russian accent, despite attending school in Britain decades ago.

"You're too old to be fighting." Everett Rosier dismissed, rolling his blue eyes.

They were in their fifties, after all. Wizards and Witches lived longer and aged slower than muggles—usually—but there still came a point in life to slow down.

"That isn't stopping Tom." Dolohov said, gesturing at the ongoing battle, "Or me. Tom and I had the right idea. Never get married. You're getting old because you settled down with a wife to nag you and a brat to keep you awake night."

He eyed the brunette wife of Everett Rosier. She scowled back at him with hazel eyes.

"I thought you said his name wasn't Tom anymore." Everett reminded. "What did he change it to, again?"

Dolohov did not answer. He was already rushing, wand out, towards the fray.

Tom Riddle—or whatever his name was now—smiled when he saw his old classmate approaching…then, he promptly shot a curse in his direction. Just like old times.

"I don't like this…" Miriam muttered. "What's he trying to prove anyway by fighting all these people at once?"

It was her brother, Aaron Avery, suffering the worst of Tom's attacks.

"I don't know." Everett shrugged.

He scanned the large and excited crowd watching the fight. Abraxas Malfoy had cast a protective charm so no stray curses or hexes would hit the onlookers.

Abraxas had not explained the reason for the gathering when he had summoned the purebloods to the Black Manor. But almost all the old families had come dressed in their best dressrobes.

Only the bloodtraitor Weaselys, Prewetts, Longbottoms and Potters were not in attendance. Everett doubted they had even been invited, as they had broken off from polite Pureblood society generations ago.

A shout.

Miriam gasped, quickly covering her mouth, hazel eyes wide.

Her brother Aaron Avery had fallen.

The crowd cheered.

Everett was unable to stop his wife as she rushed out onto the battle field to help her brother. She was joined by Aaron's wife, Ruth.

The men shooting curses at each other did not seem to care. They continued their assaults as Miriam and Ruth dragged the unconscious Aaron through the crowd and up the cobblestone path towards the Black Manor

Everett hurried out of the crowd, over to help the women. He was glad Tom Riddle was distracted by the fight.

Everett was not looking forward to giving the more powerful wizard the awkward explanation of why he had not abandoned his wife and son to help Riddle in Germany with the Grindelwald Loyalists. Everett knew that having a family and job would not be an acceptable excuse to Tom Riddle.

* * *

The only time Bellatrix Lestrange was more alive than she was while watching a fight was when she was participating in one. And she really wanted to participate in this one.

But no.

Lord Voldemort had told her not to, and to just watch for now, and so Bella did as she was told.

It was strange. Or it should have been, at least. Doing what she was told…

Bella had never followed the rules. Never obeyed her parents or the professors at Hogwarts. She had always done whatever she wanted to.

Yet, it felt completely natural to obey the Dark Lord Voldemort. (Maybe because it was what she wanted to do.)

It was not when he had callously killed the muggle in the petrol station convenience store that it felt that way. It was not even when he had brought the dead House Elves back to life.

No, it was when he had asked her if she had ever been put in her place before.

No one had even spoken to Bella like that before, not since she was a toddler and her wandless magic would torture anyone who angered her. No one had ever dared.

And then, along came the Mysterious Mister Marvolo. He was not afraid of little Bella. It was so…exciting to meet someone who was not afraid of her. Someone who she could be afraid of.

He was the Dark lord. Bella could _feel_ it.

"Calm down, Bella dear." Druella urged, "You'll break your wand."

Bella blinked.

Until her mother had spoken, she had not noticed that she was clutching her wand so tightly that it might snap. Her entire body was tensed beneath her black dress, so tightly her bones might have snapped, too.

Bella rolled her dark eyes anyway.

She glanced at the edge of the crowd. Her uncle, Everett Rosier and his wife Miriam were helping Ruth Avery drag her unconscious husband Aaron up to the house, past the stone fountain.

"Looks like Uncle Everett needs some assistance with his brother-in-law." Bella said, "Go be a good host and help your brother, mother."

Druella nodded.

She bowed out of the crowd, then scurried up the hill after her brother and the other purebloods. Bella watched them use a spell to make Aaron Avery float above the cobblestone path lined with glowing flowers for the rest of the short journey to the manor.

Once they had entered it through the back door, Bella turned to watch the fight again.

Lord Voldemort had stunned Ares Carrow, who now lay paralyzed but fully conscious on the grass. Todd Travers dropped his wand in surrender.

The Dark Lord chuckled at that, turning to the last opponent, some scruffy man Bella had never seen before. The scruffy man chuckled too, and then blasted Travers with a hex instead of continuing to fight Lord Voldemort.

This made them both laugh louder as Travers fell. They stepped over the live bodies lying on the ground in order to do one of those handshake-to-hug greetings men did—not Pureblood men, though

Bella grimaced jealously.

"Antonin Dolohov." Voldemort named, releasing the scruffy man. "It's been years."

"Tom!" Dolohov exclaimed, "You look well! So young! It's the bachelor lifestyle—"

"My name is not 'Tom' anymore." Voldemort interrupted, "I already told you that when I invited you here."

"…sorry." Dolohov apologized, "What was it again?"

"My name…" Voldemort dramatically declared, turning away from Dolohov to face the entire crowd watching, "…is the Dark Lord Voldemort!"

His voice echoed throughout the backyard without a spell. It made Bella shiver, though the spring night was warm.

"He's only told us that a hundred times."

A voice had muttered somewhere behind where Bella stood gazing at Lord Voldemort in awe. She whipped her head and mane of long black hair around to see.

Lucius Malfoy was standing next to her sister Narcissa, his wife, who giggled at the comment, behind a polite hand.

Bella glared at them both. "Shut up. Both of you."

Lucius and Narcissa tensed at being heard, especially by Bella. Their mouths quickly closed.

Satisfied, Bella turned back to watch Lord Voldemort again.

"Does anyone else want to challenge the Dark Lord Voldemort?" The Dark Lord Voldemort question the crowd.

The crowd collectively shook their heads at Lord Voldemort's offer. Carrow and Travers still lay, cursed, on the grass before them.

Both Lord Voldemort and Dolohov laughed at the crowd's refusal. Bella chuckled at it, too. The cowards. She would gladly fight the Dark Lord if she had the chance and be honored to lose to his superior abilities.

Bella had never seen Lord Voldemort this intense before (of course, she had only known him two days). It was exhilarating to see. The duel must have made him feel alive, too.

The only ones not standing in the crowd were Abraxas Malfoy, Cygnus Black and Orion Black. They sat at the table where the wine was kept, drinking, but still watching the scene from afar.

Abraxas set down his empty glass of wine on the black-clothed table and stood. He clapped slowly.

One clap echoing throughout the backyard and all the purebloods' attentions were instantly pulled from Lord Voldemort to Abraxas Malfoy in his white dress robes.

This bothered Bella.

It seemed to bother Lord Voldemort too. She was the only one still looking at him so she could see him trying not to scowl.

"Very impressive, Mr. Riddle." Abraxas complimented, stopping his clap so he could speak, "I'm sure everyone here agrees." He turned to the crowd, "Don't we all agree? Impressive, right?"

He started to clap again. This time the purebloods applauded as well.

Bella did, too. Though she felt like she might be the only one sincerely clapping.

The expression of Lord Voldemort's face was halfway between flattered and offended.

"Thank you, Abraxas." He said.

"You've proven to us all that you are a wizard of great skill." Abraxas continued, "The spells you use are the defensive ones they teach at Hogwarts. No, they are true dark magic. You are indeed a Dark Lord—"

" _The_ Dark Lord." Voldemort corrected.

"Of course." Abraxas smiled politely at the interruption, "Now, as I was saying, being a Dark Lord—or, in your case, the Dark Lord, requires more than just battle ability. It requires strategic planning. And you as the Dark Lord have a plan, which you mentioned earlier—"

"You want me to share it with everyone here?" Voldemort interrupted again to ask, gesturing at the crowd watching.

There were at least fifty people idling in the backyard of the Black Manor, and that was not including the three defeated in the demonstrative duel.

Abraxas nodded, his polite smile fading. "Yes."

"Well, that wouldn't be very strategic, now would it?" Voldemort reasoned, "How can we be sure all these people are trustworthy?"

"They're Purebloods from good, old families." Abraxas assured, "You can trust them. I would not have invited them if they were undeserving of trust."

"…alright." Voldemort accepted, cautiously.

"Just the men, though." Abraxas added, "Talk of war would be too disturbing for the ladies. They should return to the house, have desert and more delicate conversation."

His gray eyes looked right at Bella as he said that. Her own dark eyes narrowed back at his.

All the pureblood women left their husbands, brothers, and fathers' sides in the crowd to flow like a river up the cobblestone path, flanked by glowing flowers like runway, towards the three-story manor. All except for Bella.

"Bella, come on." Narcissa hissed.

Her body was in limbo between the crowd of (mostly) men and the mass of women on the cobblestone. She grabbed at her older sister's arm but the pull of tradition was strong.

"No, Cissy, I'm one of the soldiers, now." Bella refused, "I'm staying." One of the soldiers meant one of the men.

She shook her arm out of her younger sister's grasp. Sighing in defeat Narcissa followed the other women into the house.

The men and Bella watched them go. Once they had all disappeared inside, Abraxas spoke again.

"Your plan, Dark Lord?"

Lord Voldemort opened his mouth to speak. But just before his plan emerged, his red eyes widened.

He had seen someone in the crowd. But _who?_

Bella eyed the faces of the men, most of them familiar. Her own former classmates or former classmates of her parents.

But then there was one other.

Professor Horace Slughorn.

What was he doing here? The semester at Hogwarts was not yet over. So what was he doing so far away from the school?

The round man was trying his best not to be noticed in the crowd, staring down at the grass beneath expensive shoes (probably a gift from a wealthier student since Hogwarts professors were not paid exorbitantly). But Lord Voldemort had seen him and he did not look happy about it.

"Professor Slughorn?" Voldemort addressed, "Why are you here?"

Slughorn shrugged, "Abraxas invited me. He was in Slug Club, remember?"

Voldemort turned his glare towards Abraxas. "You want me to tell a man who could be a spy for Albus Dumbledore my plan?"

Both Slughorn and Abraxas blinked in surprise and offense.

"I'm not a spy for Dumbledore!" Slughorn cried, "He doesn't even know I'm here. But I though you wanted him to know you were back in England."

"That doesn't mean I want him to know what I'm doing here." Voldemort snapped, "Leave now, Professor Slughorn. Before I make you. And don't whisper a word about this to Dumbledore."

Slughorn eyed Voldemort. "Even after all these years, Tom, all your new powers, you're still afraid of him…"

" _Go."_ Voldemort insisted.

Slughorn grimaced at Abraxas, glanced at the crowd, and took one last look at his former favorite student before disapparating away.

Voldemort whirled towards Abraxas, "Are you trying to get me sent to Azkaban?!"

His voice was loud and angry. He still had adrenaline left from the fight.

The crowd of men (and Bella) gasped. Some of them drew their wands in defense of the powerful pureblood.

A shocked Antonin Dolohov attempted to pull Lord Voldemort back, but was only pushed away, down to the grass, by his old friend who advanced towards Abraxas Malfoy, wand drawn and aimed at the rich wizard.

Lucius leaped from the crowd to stand beside his father. He aimed his wand at Lord Voldemort. "Don't talk to my father that way!"

This, of course, caused Bella to leap from the crowd to stand beside Lord Voldemort, she aimed her wand at Lucius. "Don't talk to the Dark Lord that way!"

Again, the crowd of men gasped. Was there going to be _another_ fight?

Abraxas only smiled his polite smile.

"Lower your wand, son." He instructed Lucius, lifting his free hand to push his son's wand down.

Grudgingly, Lucius obeyed. "Yes father." He glowered at Bella with gray eyes.

Abraxas turned his own, colder, gray eyes upon Bella, "You, too, Mrs. Lestrange."

Bella kept her wand raised.

"Do it, Bellatrix." Lord Voldemort said, without looking at her. He was still glaring at Abraxas.

Only then did Bella lower her wand.

He still called her 'Bellatrix' instead of 'Bella'. That disappointed her.

Abraxas chuckled.

"I think we've all had a bit too much to drink." He declared, "I know what can solve that. More wine!" He gestured at the black-clothed table behind him where the ancient bottles of wine and the less ancient Orion and Cygnus Black sat.

Voldemort nodded, calming down. "Alright. More wine."

* * *

Bella had not been allowed to stay and drink with the men. She had been instructed to join the women inside the manor.

Instead, she had stomped up the cobblestone path, stomped into the house, and stomped up the stairs to her room like a pouting child in timeout—which she basically was, thanks to Abraxas Malfoy.

She would have cursed both him and his smug son, Lucius, who had been smirking triumphantly at Bella being ordered to leave, but the Dark Lord Voldemort had asked her to do as Abraxas had requested. And so, because he—not Abraxas—had ordered her to, Bella left the backyard.

From her childhood bedroom, she could only see the front yard. It was the bloodtraitor's former bedroom with the window overlooking the backyard.

That room was empty now. Its walls and floorboards were scorched just like the furniture, books and old toys that had been disposed of. Bella had attacked the room in a rage with curses after Andromeda the Traitor had left.

In the room, dark as its black burn marks, Bella stood at the third floor window watching the party of pureblood men below.

It was easy to spot Abraxas and Lucius in their white robes. It was even easier to see Lord Voldemort, though he wore black like everyone else, Bella's eyes could always find him in the crowd of men.

She wondered if he was telling them his plan. She wished she was down there.

After an hour of sipping the same glass of wine, Lord Voldemort set down his half-empty glass on the black-clothed tabled.

Bella tensed excitedly as she saw him start up the glowing flower lined cobblestone path towards the manor house. She waved at him from the window but he must not have seen her.

She hoped he was coming to see her, but she did not want to embarrass herself by running downstairs to greet him if he had only gone inside to use the bathroom.

Did he even use the bathroom? Or was he so powerful as the Dark Lord he did not have that mortal hindrance anymore?

Distracted by contemplating whether Lord Voldemort needed to use the toilet or not, Bella did not notice him walk into the bloodtraitor's room behind her.

"Bellatrix." He said.

Bella jumped up in surprise and turned around to face him. "My lord!"

The Dark Lord eyed her with his red eyes, almost knowingly…

Bella's pale face turned a little pink. Luckily, the room was too dark for the tint to be visible.

"You were amazing in the fight." She continued, "I bet you could've defeated everyone at the party on your own. If only you had let me join in on the fun—"

"This was your sister's room?" Voldemort guessed, ignoring her compliment and instead glancing around at the bedroom, empty and scorched.

"The bloodtraitor." Bella nodded, "Cissy's room is down the hall. I wonder if she and her stupid husband are staying here tonight…"

"You were going to house me in here?" Voldemort asked, raising a dark eyebrow, "Not only was it once a bloodtraitor's room, it has no bed."

Bella's face pinked further.

Andromeda the Traitor's bedroom had no bed. But Bella's own bedroom did…of course her original plan had not succeeded.

"My mistake." Bella apologized, "There's a guest room on the second floor, my lord."

The red eyes of the Dark Lord looked at her knowingly again. Bella was starting to get nervous.

"I was a classmate of Abraxas Malfoy at Hogwarts, but we were never close and I've been away for decades." Voldemort began, "What do you know about him?"

Bella shrugged. "Well, he's my uncle by marriage and my younger sister's father-in-law. He never liked me. His son's a pompous idiot—"

"What do you know that's actually important?" Voldemort specified. "Any reason he might want to pretend to support only to betray me later?"

Bella grimaced. She paused for a moment, glancing up at the dark ceiling in contemplation.

"He owns an apothecary and over half the shares of Gringotts' stock." Bella informed, "Maybe he's afraid that if you try to overthrow the Ministry, they'll seize the bank again and he'll lose all his money."

Lord Voldemort nodded. "I tried to look into his mind but was unable—"

"He's hiding something, my lord!" Bella interrupted to exclaim.

"Perhaps." Voldemort agreed, "But I'm sure he has other knowledge he doesn't want anyone peering into his mind to see which is why he is using Occlumency."

"What do we do?" Bella wondered.

Lord Voldemort furrowed his pale forehead. After a moment he said, "Was Abraxas one of your father's friends you mentioned you slept with?"

Bella's dark eyes widened in surprise. "My lord, you just told me before the party I have to stop doing that."

"This is different." Voldemort countered.

"It won't work." Bella dismissed, "Mr. Malfoy never one of the creepy old men who drooled at me as soon as turned sixteen."

" _Creepy old men?"_ Voldemort repeated, narrowing his red eyes in offense. He was the same age as Abraxas Malfoy, and Bella's father Cygnus.

"Sorry." Bella said quickly, glancing down at the scorched floorboards beneath her black shoes, "I meant the Malfoy men only like blondes. They prefer shagging women who could be their sisters—or their own reflections."

"Your sister is blonde." Lord Voldemort noted.

"Yes, but she dyes her hair to keep her husband happy." Bella explained. "Still, I wouldn't be surprised if her father-in-law made a pass at her. She'd never do it, though. She's pitifully devoted to her pathetic husband."

"Does your brother-in-law know Occlumency?" Lord Voldemort questioned.

"I don't know, my lord." Bella replied, "But if his father knows it, he probably taught him. But Abraxas and Lucius Malfoy are like my husband and his father, better businessmen than a wizards."

Voldemort sighed, "What happened to the Old Pureblood families? They used to be the greatest wizards. Now they sit around drinking wine and counting their money instead of expanding their magical knowledge and abilities."

He gestured out the window beside them, overlooking the back lawn. The purebloods laughed, gathered around Abraxas and Lucius in their white robes. All held glasses full of red liquid that looked like blood.

"Hogwarts isn't teaching battle anymore." Bella agreed, eyeing the view from the window disdainfully, "Just defensive spells. I had to learn how to fight on my own."

"I did, too." Voldemort empathized, "It was like that when I was at Hogwarts and no doubt it only grew worse after Dumbledore became Headmaster. If I want an army, I'm going to have to train one myself."

"Allow me to be your first student, then, my lord." Bella requested.

The Dark Lord Voldemort smiled, "Bellatrix, that was already decided before I even met you, when Horace Slughorn gave me your name."

Bella smiled back.

* * *

Everett Rosier thought he was the only man in the Black Manor at the moment—other than Aaron Avery, who lay conscious on the guest bed in the darkened guest bedroom. All the other men were outside, drinking, and talking war and politics, while Everett stood in the corner of the guestroom, watching his wife Miriam, her sister-in-law Ruth, and their hostess and his sister Druella attend to the the borrowed bedside of Aaron Avery, attempting to coax him awake.

The room was dark so Aaron could sleep comfortably, even though they were actively trying to wake him. It was sparsely furnished, just a queensize bed, a wardrobe, a desk and a bedside table.

Everett stood by the half-curtained window. He looked out at the party occurring on the backyard lawn.

Antonin Dolohov was in the gazebo with some woman-probably someone else's wife. Abraxas' son Lucius Malfoy had spilled red wine onto his white robe, and his wife was casting a spell to clean it. Abraxas was laughing at his son.

But where was Tom Riddle, the new Dark Lord Voldemort?

The door to the guest bedroom suddenly swung open. Light from the hallway assaulted the dark room.

Everett spun around to face the door. Miriam, Druella and Ruth looked up from the bedside of Aaron. He was still unconscious, unaware of the unexpected arrival.

"Tom!" Everett sputtered.

"Mr. Marvolo!" Druella sputtered.

"My name is Lord Voldemort!" declared Tom Marvolo Riddle—or, apparently, Lord Voldemort. His voice and his facial expression radiated frustration.

Frazzled Druella rose from where she had knelt by the queensize bed. "You changed it again?"

Tom—Lord Voldemort did not address the comment. Instead he said, "I'm staying here from now on. I'll need this room empty for me." He glanced at the man asleep on the bed who he had been the one to knock out with a spell.

Everett noticed then that his eyes were red. Why were they red? They used to be blue.

"And, Everett," Voldemort continued, "You and I need to talk."

"Alright, but first let me tell you that I'm really sorry about not joining you in Germany, but I have a wife now," Everett attempted, gesturing at Miriam, still kneeling beside her brother, on the floorboards by the bed, "and we have a son. He just turned seventeen, he's still at Hogwarts—"

"That is who I wanted to discuss with you." Voldemort said, "This summer, I will be training students in the Dark Arts to be soldiers for my army. Your son will be one of them."

It was not a request.

Everett Rosier gulped. His wife, Miriam Rosier, gasped.

"Not my little Evan!" she cried jumping up from the floor, "He can't be a soldier! He's not cut out to be—"

"He will be by the end of the summer." Voldemort declared, "You'll send him here as soon as he graduates from Hogwarts."

Again, it was not a request.

Miriam promptly burst into tears, burying her face in both hands and dropping back down onto her knees. She had always been melodramatic.

Both Everett and Druella's blue eyes widened.

Everett was shocked at having his only son drafted into Lord Voldemort's army. Druella was shocked at having her husband's manor and estate drafted as the location for training.

"I have a son, too." Ruth Avery spoke up, rising from where she sat on the bed beside her unconscious husband, "I know my husband isn't able to give permission at the moment, but I think our Alvin could benefit from your teach. He won't graduate this year, though, he's only sixteen."

Voldemort turned to survey the woman who had spoken, and the man sprawled on the bed next to her.

"After what I did to your husband, you're volunteering your son?" he checked, an eyebrow raised.

Ruth nodded. "It's because of what you did. I want my son to be powerful like you."

"Alright." Voldemort accepted, "But if he returns to Hogwarts in the he must never reveal what he has learned, or who taught it to him."

Ruth nodded again. "Yes, sir. I'll make sure he won't."

"Thank you, Mrs. Avery." Voldemort responded.

Miriam was still crying into her hands on the floor. It was getting loud.

Voldemort glanced at her in annoyance, then turned his gaze back to Everett. "Oh, and Everett? Get your wife under control."

With that, he turned and exited the guestroom, back into the bright hallway.

Everett Rosier watched him go. Once the new Dark Lord was gone, he hurried to his wife's side.


	5. Bella

**(1977)**

The blackened and burned empty bedroom of the bloodtraitor Andromeda Black (now Andromeda Tonks—unworthy of the pureblood surname) was dark. Its singed curtains were drawn and its door was closed and locked.

There were only three things inside of the room. A chair, Bellatrix Lestrange, and the Dark Lord Voldemort.

Bellatrix was seated in the wooden chair, gazing up at Voldemort, dark eyes dilated in the darkness. Her long black hair was messy with bedhead and her heavy-lidded eyes carried bags.

The pureblood party had intensified last night. Bellatrix had been up late and so this morning she was tired and hungover. (And though Voldemort had previously instructed her not to sleep around, he doubted that she had spent the night alone.)

Voldemort had commandeered the guestroom and locked himself inside, casting a spell to keep the laughter and music of the party out.

The next morning, he had roused Bellatrix from slumber the moment the birds had started chirping in to announce the sunrise. She had not been happy about this, but did not complain.

Now, Voldemort surveyed Bellatrix with a red stare. "When I was a professor at Durmstrang, two of the things I taught were Occlumency and Legilimency. You know what those are, right, Bellatrix?"

"Yes, I do, my lord." Bellatrix said, yawning and then quickly covering her open mouth with a hand, "But they don't teach it at Hogwarts, it's 'unethical'. You said Abraxas Malfoy was using Occlumency to keep people out of his mind—"

"And now you must use it as well." Voldemort replied, "My plans have to remain a secret. If anyone was to look into your mind—"

"You mean Dumbledore or someone working for him?" Bellatrix guessed.

"Yes." Voldemort nodded, narrowing his eyes at being interrupted, "Or anyone who might report our activities to the Ministry of Magic."

"I understand, my lord." Bellatrix said, "So you're going to teach me?"

"I am." Voldemort affirmed, "I'm going to enter your mind and you're going to try to repel me. You'll fail, at first. But if you can learn to keep me out, then you can learn to keep anyone out."

"Even Dumbledore?" Bellatrix wondered.

Voldemort did not answer that. In fact, he did not even know the answer to that question, which was why he had avoided being in the general vicinity of Albus Dumbledore for the past twenty-some years.

"When I was teaching Occlumency at Durmstrang," he circumvented, "do you know what all of my students thought of when I first looked into their minds? Every single one of them?"

Bellatrix grinned. It was early in the morning, she was tired, but she could guess.

"Sex." She said.

Voldemort could tell Bellatrix hoped that this was his way of flirting with her. It was not, of course, but it was amusing to watch her wish it was.

"They were teenagers, there wasn't much else on their minds." He confirmed, with a nod, "But even adults react the same why. Whatever they try not to think about, they think about. Whatever they don't want me to see, I will see. So this is to say, don't try to hide anything from me, Bellatrix, it will only make me find it faster."

Bellatrix continued to smile. "I would never, my lord."

She was already conjuring certain mental images. She did not plan to hide them.

Voldemort ignored this, gliding past the images as he silently used Legilimency to wade into Bellatrix's mind.

* * *

**(1962)**

The concrete warehouse looked like all the other concrete warehouses along the docks beside the English Channel. And that was just what the wizard who owned it _wanted_ the muggle dockworkers to think—he had cast multiple spells to make sure of that.

Reynard Lestrange owned the building. But not for much longer.

He was selling it. That was why everything left inside was packed into crates and boxes, in the wide concrete room, ready to be shipped across the channel to France.

A wooden crate jolted. Something growled inside.

Eleven year old Rodolphus Lestrange ignored it, he was used to the lively cargo his father sold. He sat atop the nearest crate, bouncing when whatever was inside attempted to break free.

Bellatrix Black, however, stared curiously at the wooden container in the dim light from the flickering fluorescent lamps that swung above.

It was the summer before their first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

"What's in there?" she asked, finally, looking up at Rodolphus on top of the crate.

He grinned down at her. "I'm not allowed to tell you."

Rodolphus had brown hair and green eyes like his father (and his little brother, Rabastan, too). But he was not as tall or as commanding as his merchant father, he was still just a skinny little boy.

Bella was also eleven, but she was not a little girl. Not anymore.

She had red lips stolen from her mother's makeup bag and a brand new red stain on her underwear just a week ago. She was a woman now.

That was why her father was in Reynard Lestrange's office down the hall, discussing a marriage match for her.

"Why not?" Bella asked, folding her arms over her dress.

It was one of the nicer ones she had, she had to make a good impression on her future husband—or rather, her future father-in-lawn.

It was green, like the Lestranges' eyes. Bella preferred black, her family's name and her family's color, but if she was going to be a Lestrange, then she would have to get used to wearing green.

It was not so bad, anyway, green was the color of the Slytherin Family, too…

"Because," Rodolphus explained, "it's illegal in the United Kingdom now. That's why we're taking it to France."

"Just tell me what it is!" Bella demanded, stomping her foot in an unladylike and un _adult_ like manner. She was not used to asking twice.

Rodolphus shook his head. "Nope."

He was laughing at her now. Bella hated being laughed at. She liked laughing at others.

Her fists clenched and her brow furrowed.

Suddenly, the crate shook beneath Rodolphus again. This time, more furiously.

Rodolphus stopped laughing.

The wooden container continued to shake. The growls of whatever thing was inside shifted to squeals of terror. Rodolphus gripped the sides of the crate as he shook with it.

It was not enough.

He cried out as he fell, landing hard on the concrete floor of the warehouse.

Now, Bella was the one laughing.

Green eyes glared up at her from the floor. The crate was no longer shaking as Rodolphus rose, dusted off his little boy's suit (the kind with shorts instead of long trousers) and turned to Bella.

"Are you going to tell me what's in there?" she asked, feigning innocence, "It seems dangerous pushing you down like that."

"You did that." Rodolphus accused. "I'll never marry you. I'm going to tell my father—"

"You're going to run and tell daddy on me?" Bella snorted. "A _girl_ hurt you? You're such a baby. Don't you want to be a man?"

Rodolphus narrowed his green eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Men handle their own problems." Bella said, pausing then smiling, "…men kiss women. Have you ever kissed a girl before?"

Rodolphus shook his head. "No…"

Bella stepped towards him. Her footsteps on the concrete floor echoed in the wide room. "Tell me what's in the crate and I'll kiss you."

"I can't—" Rodolphus tried. He backed away from her, nervously, until he felt the wood of the crate against his back. He was less afraid of its shaking and growling than the girl advancing towards him.

"Can't what?" Bella asked, "Can't tell me or can't kiss me? Because you can do whatever you want to do as long as you're man enough to. I don't want a weak little boy as my husband—"

"I'm not a weak little boy!" Rodolphus exclaimed.

He stepped forward from the crate towards Bella.

Bella blinked in surprise at this, but is was pleasant surprise. After all, she did not want to marry a weak little boy.

"So tell me what's in the crate, then." Bella repeated, "And prove it."

"Alright." Rodolphus nodded.

And so he told her. And so she kissed him.

* * *

**(1977)**

"But you didn't tell him it was your first kiss, too." Voldemort noted, from where he stood in the dark, burned room.

Bellatrix shrugged, seated in the chair before him. "A woman should keep an air of mystery about her."

"Not from me." Voldemort stated.

He returned to her mind. _Something was bright, flashing…_

* * *

**(1962)**

The ceiling of Hogwart's Great Hall reflected the storm outside. Lightning flashed as Bellatrix Black was sorted into Slytherin House.

Under the floating candlelight, the eleven year old girl took her seat with the other pureblood students at the Slytherin table. They were all older and taller than her.

The rest of the first-year purebloods were still waiting to be sorted. With the last name 'Black', Bellatrix was one of the first in alphabetical order to sit under the old talking hat.

Still waiting to be sorted were two other first-year girls she had met briefly on the train. Rita Skeeter and Dolores Umbridge. The latter had claimed to be related to the Selwyns, though the Selwyn siblings had not let her sit with them due to her less than pureblood.

Pureblood girls sat on one side of the Slytherin table, pureblood boys on the other. It was tradition.

The halfblood Slytherins, and the ones from less wealthy families, sat at the other end of the long table, free of such restrictions. The Pureblood Royalty ignored them and yet they all wore the same black robes as their school uniform.

Bella had squeezed between third-year Sabine Selwyn and second-year Wanda MacNair, across from their brothers second-year Sven and third-year Walden.

She knew them from pureblood parties and they were the closest to her age, so she had sat with them on the train, along with her future husband, Rodolphus Lestrange.

The Selwyn had dark hair and eyes. They might as well have been Blacks—except that their family was not nearly as rich. The MacNairs were a little richer and had lighter hair and eyes.

Sven Selwyn smiled across the table at Bella.

"Hello again, Bella." He greeted, in a whisper, because the Sorting Hat was still shouting out houses from atop heads—and one might soon be another Slytherin.

"Hello again, Sven." Bella returned, with a nod.

Sabine Selwyn rolled her eyes. "Don't get too friendly, Svenny, she's promised and her fiancé's about to get sorted."

She gestured at the front of the Great Hall where a boy sat upon a stool, a hat upon his brown-haired head, the professors' table stationed behind him. There was a brief moment of silence…

"Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat cried out.

Rodolphus Lestrange stood. The professor lifted the hat from his head, allowing him to hurry down the aisle between the tables, towards the other Slytherins.

He squeezed in between the male Selwyns and MacNair. Selwyn grimaced.

"Hello again, Bella." Rodolphus greeted, smiling across the table at his betrothed, Bellatrix Black.

"Hello again, Rod." Bella smiled back at Rodolphus, but out of the corner of her eye, she was watching Sven Selwyn.

* * *

**(1963)**

Teenagers did not know how to kiss. At least none of the three Bella had kissed knew, granted they were all only thirteen, since thirteen year olds were the only ones who could kiss twelve year olds and not get in trouble.

Bella did not really know how to kiss either—yet—but that was why she was practicing. She wanted to learn.

Now, Bella hid behind the curve of a stone corridor. It was one of those hallways that seemed to lead nowhere in the expansive old castle that was Hogwarts.

There was really no need for her to hide.

The two older students she was watching had their eyes closed as they kissed—no, it was more than kissing. Their tongues must have been halfway down each other's throats, and their faces seemed to be trying to devour each other.

It looked strange.

And yet, twelve year old little Bella could not look away. Her dark eyes stared, wide and mesmerized—

"What do you think you're doing?"

Bella jumped up when she heard the voice. She had not heard the footsteps on the stone floor behind her.

Whirling around, Bella found herself pointing her wand at another older student.

A Blond Slytherin boy, Nelson Yaxley, a fifteen year old fifth-year. A distant cousin of the Black Family, but so was everybody else with a drop of pure blood.

They had never spoken before, but she recognized him and he of course recognized her. Any Slytherin, pureblood or not, would recognize a Black.

Even so, Yaxley laughed at the short little girl aiming her wand at him.

Bella knew she could probably beat him in a duel, and that her family could probably buy his family, but she lowered her wand anyway.

"I took a wrong turn." Bella lied, "I've only been here a year and a half. I still get lost sometimes."

She channeled her embarrassment at getting caught into embarrassment about 'getting lost'. Her pale skin tinted pink, just a bit.

"Well, it happens to me, too." Yaxley admitted, "But I'd be happy to help you find your way. Where were you headed?"

"Uh…" Bella paused. She could not think of a place to say she was intending to go before getting lost. Instead, she asked, "What were you doing here?"

Yaxley glanced down at her, then behind her.

The two students were still choking and devouring each other against the stone wall, completely unaware (or uncaring) of the conversation occurring a few feet away from them, around the corner.

Yaxley pointed at the girl.

Long brown hair was all Bella could see. It could have been any number of girls.

"That is—or _was_ —my girlfriend." Yaxley declared, with a sniff.

He did not seem to upset about the fact that his now former girlfriend was kissing another boy. He was chuckling at it, actually.

Bella looked behind her at the kissing couple again, then back at the taller Slytherin standing before her. "You're not mad?"

Yaxley shrugged, "I was going to break up with her today, anyway."

Bella laughed at that. "Guess she figured that out."

"Shame." Yaxley sighed, "I was hoping for some tears." He took one last glance at the brunette girl, then looked back at Bella, "Now where were you off to, again?"

* * *

**(1977)**

"You know, you have to at least _try_ to repel me." Voldemort reminded his new student.

Bellatrix smiled innocently—except she never quite managed to look innocent. Not now as an adult, nor as a child.

"You're too powerful, my lord." She said.

It was true, of course.

But what was also true was that having her mind explored was almost like being massaged. Voldemort swam through Bellatrix's mind like it was a lake—or a pensieve pool of memories.

"Make an attempt, Bellatrix." Voldemort insisted.

His red eyes stared again, past Bellatrix's dark eyes, and into her mind.

_Blurry. Dark. A shadowy round figure at a shadowy rectangular object—Horace Slughorn at a desk! It all phased into focus..._

* * *

**(1964)**

Professor Slughorn had a tiny office, which he made no secret that he hated. There was barely enough room for the bookshelf and the desk—he was squeezed between it and the wall whenever he sat down in his chair (but that was more because he had gotten fat in his years as a professor, snacking from the Hogwarts' kitchen whenever he felt like it).

He was grading assignments, dipping his quill into the red ink, when Bellatrix Black stomped into his small office without knocking.

She held up a piece of parchment, "Professor Slughorn."

Slughorn squinted through the dim light at the girl and the paper. "Do you have a problem with your Potions grade, Miss Black?"

"Of course I do." Bella snapped, slamming the paper onto his desk, "It's unacceptable."

"Then maybe you need to study harder." Slughorn reasoned, setting down his quill to look up at her from where he sat, "You're a smart young lady and a powerful young witch. You're just too used to having everything come easily to you—whether through talent you were born with or the name you were born with. You haven't had to work hard before."

"I can work hard." Bella denied, folding her arms, "I just don't like to waste time on pointless tasks like homework."

"It's not 'pointless'—" Slughorn attempted.

Bella reached into the pocket of her robes, out emerged some money, "My parents are very wealthy. I can pay you—"

Slughorn snorted. "I can't accept a bribe!"

Bella shoved the money back into her pocket. Then, from another pocket, she drew her wand. "What about a threat, then?"

Slughorn snorted again. "You're not going to threaten me, Miss Black. Even you know better than that."

Bella lowered her wand, slightly…but then raised it back up, to flick it. The door behind her closed and locked.

Slughorn glanced at it, then at the thirteen year old student. He raised an eyebrow.

"Do you think I'm pretty, Professor Slughorn?" Bella asked, tossing back her long black hair.

Slughorn sighed, shaking his head down at the papers on his desk. "You think you're the first female student to try that with me? I'm not changing your grade."

Bella glared.

"But…" Slughorn continued, looking up at her, "I do know of one student who might be able to help you with your homework. I don't know if you've noticed the young man staring at you during class—"

"Who?" Bella demanded.

* * *

**(1964)**

Josias Jugson was the kind of short, nerdy boy that other students would tease. He was a Slytherin, but not from one of the Old Families, and so unprotected in the halls and even the Slytherin Common Room.

That was why he spent most of his time in the library.

Bella found him at a table in a corner, tucked between three tall bookshelves that made a makeshift room. She would not have been surprised if the fellow third-year had arranged them that way himself for some safety and privacy.

"Josias?" she said, sweetly— _sickly_ sweet.

Josias looked up from the book he had been reading. His brown eyes blinked in shock.

Bellatrix Black? The rich and popular girl? Talking to _him?!_ It had to be some kind of prank…

"B-Black?" Josias stuttered, gripping the book tightly. His hands were starting to sweat.

"You can call me 'Bella'." Bella invited, "May I sit down?"

There was not another chair at the small wooden table. Josias never had friends visit him here.

He leaped up from his seat, immediately offering it to her, "Of course!"

Bella giggled. This was too easy. She flicked her wand, "Accio chair."

From somewhere else in the maze of bookshelves and desks that formed the Hogwarts Library, a wooden chair whizzed, finding its way to Bella just in time for her to sink into it as it landed on the carpeted floor behind her.

She sat across from Josias. He was still standing, staring at her nervously.

"MacNair and Selwyn are here, right?" he guessed, glancing past her at the bookshelves behind her, except the other boys to jump out and hex him, "Your boyfriend Lestrange, too?"

"Rodolphus isn't my boyfriend." Bella corrected, "We are promised, but I don't belong to him. And he isn't here right now. Neither are Sven and Walden."

"Then why are you here?" Josias wondered, slowly lowering himself back into his seat.

"Because you're smart." Bella said, "You're good at potions. I want—"

"My help?" Josias concluded, "Or for me to do it for you?" He sighed, "…I knew it."

Bella looked hurt and vaguely offended. "I was going to say I wanted to be your friend, but if that's what you think of me…"

"Sorry!" Josias quickly exclaimed, "That's not what I think of you! Not at all! I don't know why I say such stupid things. I'm so—"

"You're a brilliant student, Josias." Bella complimented, "It's why Sven and Walden tease you. They're jealous."

Josias grimaced. "You're not the first person to have said that. Professors say the same thing. But…"

"But they never do anything about it?" Bella suspected.

Josias nodded.

"I will." Bella declared, "I'll make them stop. I'll do that for you, Josias. I may not be good at book work, but I'm good at that."

Josias smiled, tentatively, "I can help you with your homework, you know, if you want me to…"

Now Bella smiled.

* * *

**(1977)**

Morning light was pushing past the drawn curtains of the window, forcing its way into the dark room. The darkness still triumphed. For now.

"Jugson." Voldemort said, "I've never heard that name before."

"He's not a pureblood." Bellatrix explained, "His father is a halfblood, his grandfather was a muggle. He was a good student, but of course he would have been better if he was a pureblood…"

"Are you still in contact with him?" Voldemort asked.

Bellatrix shook her head, her long, messy hair shook with it. "No. But if I write to him, he'll come. Do you want to recruit him?"

Voldemort nodded. "Perhaps."

What was it about Bellatrix that made her a weaver, spinning the threads of men and making them dance like puppets?

Voldemort knew he could use this to his advantage. Once again he stepped into her mind.

_Its waters were murky. Greenish blue. But there was some light…_

* * *

**(1965)**

The lanterns lighting the dim and windowless room were a soft glowing green. The carpet beneath their shoes was green, too, and so were the blankets on each of the twin-sized beds in a row before them.

The green covers on one of the beds were moving. There were two occupants beneath them.

Andromeda was _not_ surprised.

It was dinnertime and so the Slytherin Girls' Dormitory _should_ have been empty. All the students of all the houses, and all the professors of all the classes, were eating in the Great Hall—all except for who Andromeda had come looking for.

The door to the dormroom was locked. But that never stopped anyone with magic.

"Alohomora." Andromeda Black had whispered.

The door had clicked open, silently. She had crept into the room, dark eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Now, with adjusted eyes, she stared at the one moving bed in the row.

"Bella!" she called, sharply.

The movement under the covers stopped.

"What?" Bella's voice called back from beneath the blankets, "What do you want, Andy?"

Andromeda sighed. "Who's with you right now? I saw Rodolphus in the Great Hall. He's looking for you."

"Tell him I'm at the toilets." Bella groaned.

Neither she nor whoever she was with emerged from beneath the green blankets.

"Bella, who is there with you?" Andromeda repeated.

Neither Bella nor whoever she was with answered from beneath the green blankets.

Andromeda waved her wand.

The covers sprang into the air then fell onto the carpet beside the bed. Bella and her boy of the week were revealed.

Andromeda's betrothed, Rabastan Lestrange, quickly grabbed a pillow. He did not know whether to cover his exposed face or a lower area of his exposed body.

Bella was just laughing, unembarrassed at her nakedness.

Andromeda's expression did not look hurt or betrayed, though it did continue to look very annoyed. She crossed her arms.

"Rodolphus is going to be pissed." She stated, "Both of you are two young for this. You're not even fifteen, Bella." She turned to Rabastan, "And you, you're only thirteen!"

Rabastan's entire body was bright red. He could not make eye-contact with the girl he was promised to.

Bella continued to laugh. "A hundred years ago we'd both be married mothers by now."

"Times change." Andromeda dismissed, "A hundred years ago you'd be stoned for acting like a whore."

Bella stopped laughing. The smile on her face added, replaced by a glare.

Bella pointed her wand at her younger sister. Andromeda had not even realized her older sister had it in her hands—but then, Bellatrix Black was the type to never let it go.

"I'm acting like a man." Bella countered, "A hundred years ago, I would've been the sole heir as the oldest son and married _both_ Lestrange 'sisters', leaving _you_ with nothing, Andromeda."

Andromeda grimaced. Her sister was weird; when she was not upholding traditional blood purity she was defying traditional female purity—and traditional gender roles.

"Bella, Bas, You should both get dressed and come to dinner." Andromeda suggested, "People are going to figure it out with you both gone at the same time."

Bella shrugged. "Let them. I don't care."

* * *

**(1966)**

Bellatrix Black was a striking beauty in a brand new dress, black like her family name. Her black hair tied up in a bun and black eye shadow framed her black eyes.

The dark color scheme somehow made her shine bright, standing out in the line of other teenage girls in dresses of various colors against the cream-colored wall.

The Old Pureblood Families had rented a ballroom, just like they did every year. This was the Debutante Ball for the pureblood daughters who had turned fifteen this year.

The ballroom was brightly lit by chandeliers that hovered above their heads. The shiny dancefloor reflected lights, it was empty at the moment.

Girls in dresses on one wall, boys in dressrobes on the opposite. Tradition.

The dressed-up adults, most of them married, and their younger children, watched from the circular tables near the bar where House Elves served food and drink. There was a band on the stage, across from the tables, but it had not yet begun to play.

Bella stared across the room at Rodolphus. He smiled at her.

She smiled back at him, a formality. Then, she glanced over at the tables where her family sat.

Andromeda looked bored, staring up at the chandeliers near by the ceiling. Narcissa looked jealous, she wanted to be in a pretty dress. Her parents were smiling at her encouragingly.

Bella smiled back at them, another formality, continuing to scan a room.

There was an older man, tan and dark eyed, watching her. He stood by the bar, drink in hand, alone. He had not come with a wife and family.

The man raised his glass at Bella when he noticed that she had caught him staring.

Bella knew who he was. A pureblood Slytherin classmate of her parents'.

Tye Nott.

"Ladies and gentlemen!"

Bella looked away from the older man at the sound of the familiar voice. All eyes turned towards the stage.

Abraxas Malfoy stood, dressed in white robes, in front of the band.

"Welcome to the debut of this year's fine crop of pureblood youth." He continued, gesturing at the girls and boys standing in their respective lines against the wall, "To finalize their transition into adulthood, they will have the first dance with their betrothed."

He glanced behind him at the band and nodded. They began to play classical music.

Even though the teenagers had been practicing for weeks and knew who their dance partners would be, they still stayed nervously by the cream-colored wall.

The adults and younger children watched and waited expectantly.

That only made things worse for the poor young witches and wizards. They stared at their shiny shoes on the shiny dancefloor.

All except for Bellatrix Black, of course.

She snorted at the others' apprehension, then proudly and gracefully stepped forward towards her intended husband, Rodolphus. Her dark eyes met his green ones and he followed her lead, hurrying to meet her almost half-way on the dancefloor.

The hand that took hers was slightly sweaty, but the other on the small of her back was practiced, just like both of their footsteps.

The purebloods watching cheered. Even though it was Bella taking the traditionally masculine role of leading herself and her partner during the dance.

Quickly, the other teenagers joined the dance.

* * *

**(1977)**

"Tye Nott was one of your father's friends you slept with?" Voldemort guessed.

"You can find that out for yourself, my lord." Bellatrix replied, still seated on the wooden chair in front of him.

Voldemort did not need to. He did not need to search her mind to know. And he was not sure that he wanted to see the memory…

"He was a 'friend' of mine in school, too." He recounted. "I always wondered how he turned out after I left."

"He married a girl even younger than me." Bellatrix informed, adjusting her position in the cushionless chair, "Theodora. We could recruit them, too."

"You're not jealous he found a younger woman?" Voldemort tested. "Most women would be."

Bellatrix smirked. "You already know I'm not most women. Are _you_ jealous?"

Voldemort scoffed at that.

And yet…for the first time he considered that he might be missing out on something special if all the other men in the world, even prudish Tye Nott, had been parched for a taste of Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Do you want me to be, Bellatrix?" Voldemort asked, "Is that why you're showing me these memories?"

"You haven't taught me how to do that yet—if it's even possible." Bellatrix countered, "You might be finding them because they're what you're looking for."

"Or maybe boys are all you think about." Voldemort returned, looking down at her from where he stood like a stuffy adult would a silly child.

It occurred to him, then, that is she was consciously (or even subconsciously) presenting these particular memories to him, that she was not only trying to make him jealous…but also trying to distract him from other memories. To hide other memories from him.

So one more time, Voldemort wandlessly cast the legilimens spell to access Bellatrix's mind. And this time he dived deep.

_There was darkness. Not just the lack of light, but a tangible darkness. Fog, maybe? No. Like thick muddy water._

There was no gliding through Bellatrix's mind anymore. Voldemort had to force his way in.

* * *

**(1973)**

A thick fog surrounded the house. Sure, it was England, where fog and smog thrived, but this dark fog was wizard-made. It completely enshrouded the small building, attempting to shield it from…

From Bellatrix Lestrange.

She had finally located this place. Months of searching, months of _rage._

It was a moonless, cloudy midnight as Bella strode across the wet streets, wand drawn from the cloak wrapped around her body.

She did not care if any muggles—or anyone—saw her. But the street was empty, lit only by the occasional streetlamp.

One blast from Bella's wand and the glass had shattered. The light extinguished.

Another blast from wand.

The fog swirled into the dark sky, turning into a furious tornado that kissed the clouds then came back down stronger. The wind was blowing now, stealing the leaves from the shaking trees and bushes in front of the house.

The Tonks house was revealed, its windows were curtained but there was light hiding behind the fabric.

"ANDROMEDA!" Bella shouted, as loud as she could, "Andromeda! You filthy bloodtraitor! Get out here and face me!"

She was almost to the front lawn of the house. The lights went out behind the curtained windows.

Bella flicked her wand.

A red beam of light blasted towards the now-dark window. But instead of shattering the glass, the beam was deflected.

Bella narrowed her dark eyes.

Andromeda's magic was not as strong as hers. Neither was her mudblood husband's.

It must have been some auror or maybe even Albus Dumbledore who had placed the protective charms on the Tonks residence.

Bella scowled. "Andromeda!"

The tornado whirled above the house. The glass of the windows clattered but did not break. The wind was howling.

But Bella's voice was louder and the storm inside of her even wilder.

"ANDROMEDA—"

"Bella stop."

Bella's shout was interrupted by the quiet but firm words from her younger sister's mouth.

The swirling tornado stopped. The clouds in the sky were gone. Suddenly, it was silent.

Andromeda Tonks had stepped out of the front door of her new home and stood on the doorstep, glaring at her older sister. She was _extremely_ pregnant beneath her nightgown.

Bella gasped, shocked and saddened beneath her anger. There would be no bringing her sister back now that she was having a halfblood child.

Bella's shock and sadness returned to rage. "Andromeda! You traitor! How could you?!"

Andromeda just shook her head, brunette bedhead shaking with it. "You would never understand."

Bella blasted another red curse.

Again, it was deflected, bouncing off of the air in front of Andromeda and then shooting up into the dark sky like a star.

Bella clenched both fists at her side, lowering her wand. "You're right. I could never understand how you could betray our family, our traditions, our pure blood—"

"Ted is worth so much more than any of that!" Andromeda declared, tears forming in her dark eyes, "More than pure blood, traditions, even family! He is my family now! Our child is my family now—"

"It's a halfblood—" Bella tried.

"Yes! My child is a halfblood!" Andromeda accepted, "I'm proud of that! I'm proud of that because it's not going to be an inbred, prejudiced piece of dragon dung like you—and neither am I!"

Bella raised her wand and shot a third red curse, even though she knew it would simply deflect and dissipate. "Everything we were taught as children—"

"I never cared about that, Bella!" Andromeda cried, "Never! I just…didn't have the motivation to leave. Not until Ted. My love for him and his for me is the most powerful thing I've ever experienced. It's worth giving up everything for. But, like I said, you wouldn't understand."

"Why not?" Bella asked.

"Because you've never loved anyone." Andromeda said, "Not our parents. Not your sisters. Not even your own husband. You don't have anyone you'd give up everything for and so you will never understand what that feels like."

Bella growled. "I'm going to kill you Andromeda. You, your mudblood husband, you're your halfblood spawn. Not today. Not tomorrow. But one day…maybe in a week, maybe in a year, maybe in a decade. Enjoy the rest of your life looking over your shoulder for me, knowing that one day when you look back I will be there and the last thing you and your family will see will be my killing curse and my smiling face—"

At that Andromeda laughed.

"Don't you understand, Bella?" she snorted, "I don't care! I'm not afraid! I'm not scared of you anymore, or the consequences of not following traditions. That's what love does. It has freed me. Kill me, Bella. I don't care."

Enraged by the laughter and defiance, Bella flicked her wand and sent a final curse. It was green.

A final time, the beam of light was deflected, as Bella knew it would be.

Andromeda did not even flinch. She truly was not afraid anymore.

In the dark, clear night, Bellatrix Lestrange took one last look at her younger sister disapparated.

(And what Andromeda never knew was that her older sister, Bella, had gone home and cried that night.)

* * *

**(1977)**

Bellatrix leaped up from the chair in the dark, scorched former bedroom of her former sister. She drew her wand, face contorted in pain and anger, pointing it at the man who had looked through her mind and found that particular memory.

"Don't look at that! Why did you have to look at that?!" she shrieked, momentarily forgetting who she was shrieking and aiming her wand at.

Voldemort's red eyes glanced down at the wand aimed right at his face. He sniffed dismissively. "I told you not to try to hide something from me."

Bellatrix looked down at her feet in shame, lowered her wand and sunk back into her chair.


	6. The Lestranges

Though it was midday when Rodolphus Lestrange appeared via floo the fireplace, the library in the Black Manor was dark. His green eyes squinted adjusted to the dark.

He stepped forward. Onto something. Rod could not yet see what it was.

It felt like a dead body beneath his foot—and he would have believed it was had the body not grunted, indicating that it was alive and that it did not appreciate being stepped on.

It? No, a _he_ judging by the grunt.

Rod removed his shoe—fancy, expensive and _French_ like his suit and robes.

He stared down through the darkness.

There was a man passed out on the hardwood library floor, clutching an empty bottle of the Malfoy century-aged wine.

He was face down on so Rod could not recognize him in the dark.

_Of course._ Rod rolled his green eyes. Of course, Bella would throw a wild party while he was away on business in France.

She was probably upstairs right now with some man—

"Argh!" Rod cried out at he fell forward.

He landed atop the passed out drunk with a thud. The drunk grunted again.

Rod attempted to push against the floorboards to stand up, but he could not move because _someone_ had landed atop _him._ That someone was most likely Rabastan Lestrange, his annoying little brother, who had come through the fireplace right behind him.

"Get off of me, Bas!" Rod griped.

"Sorry." Rabastan apologized. He pushed off of his older brother's back so that he could stand, "I couldn't see."

Rod grimaced at being pushed, then pushed off of the drunk so that he could stand. Once he stood, he turned around to glare at Rabastan.

"Did you bring the suitcases?" Rod asked.

Rabastan's green eyes blinked in surprise. "I thought you brought them, Rod…"

Rod groaned, shaking his head in annoyance, "Go back for them."

"Back to France?!" Bas sputtered, "But Rod—"

" _Go."_ Rod ordered, pointing past his brother at the empty fireplace.

Bas sighed, turned around and went back into the fireplace. Rod waited, watching, until Bas had thrown more floo powder and poofed away in a puff of flames.

Once he was gone, Rod navigated through the darkened library, over the passed out drunk, and out of the room into the long hallway.

It was unlit, but bright as its windows were uncurtained, looking out on the front lawn of the Black Manor.

Rod's brown eyebrows raised in surprise when he glanced out the bright window.

The lawn was manicured and green again—no longer the straggly mess of weeds that looked like a blonde version of Bellatrix's hair in the morning.

Bellatrix. Bella.

_Where was she, anyway?_

* * *

"You're not even trying to resist me, are you, Bellatrix?"

"It's just too hard. You're too strong."

"You don't even want to."

"You're right, my lord, I don't."

Rodolphus Lestrange had heard enough.

With a spell, he blasted open the door he had been listening at, hearing the voice of his wife and a strange man inside.

Bella and the dark-haired man immediately turned towards him, wands drawn. Rodolphus, his own wand still pointed, was confused when he saw that the two were dressed and in no compromising position.

Bella sat in a chair wearing that slinky black nightgown he had bought for her, her hair wild like she had just woken up, though it was noon. She really should have dressed more appropriately since there was company. Male company.

The male company stood in front of Bella, completely dressed in black robes. He was older than he looked, Rod could tell, and he had the most frightening pair of red eyes Rod had ever seen.

Rod furrowed his brow, "Bella?"

Bella furrowed her brow, "Rod?"

The man looked at Rodolphus, then at Bellatrix. "Bellatrix, who is this?"

Rod snorted, "Who am _I?_ Who are you and what are you doing with my wife?"

"I am the Dark Lo—"

Bella hopped out of her chair before the 'Dark Lo' could fully identify himself. She turned to the 'Dark Lo', first, instead of her husband.

"My lord, this is my husband Rodolphus Lestrange." She stated, "Let me explain everything to him." Again, she wanted to be the prophet that heralded the second coming of the Dark Lord.

The 'Dark Lo' sighed, "Fine. But don't take too long. We need to complete the lesson."

Bella nodded at him. "Yes, my lord."

Her _'lord'?_ Rod looked on from the blasted open doorway, wondering who the strange man was and why his wife was calling him her 'lord'.

Finally, his wife acknowledged his presence again.

"Rod," Bella said, "Come with me."

She hurried to where he stood in the blasted open doorway, taking his hand to lead him through it. She kissed her husband Rod on the lips, but it was the strange man she looked back at before pulling Rod away down the hall.

* * *

Aaron Avery was another pureblood passed out in the Black Manor after a pureblood party—though he looked injured rather than inebriated. He lay on a sittingroom couch, his wife, Ruth, asleep on the floor next to him, having enchanted a pillow to elongate so it cushioned her entire body.

Everett and Miriam Rosier were nearby, on the other couch in the dim sittingroom. The black curtains were closed but sunlight peeked into the room of couches and coffeetables.

Bella led Rod past the sleeping purebloods, down the hall, and into the diningroom. Inside the diningroom, her mother was not awake yet to cook for them but Kreacher was curled under the diningroom table. Snoring.

"Kreacher?" she called.

The House Elf sputtered, leaping up from uncomfortable slumber on the uncomfortable floor, accidently smacking his head on the bottom of the table before hurrying out from beneath it.

"How can Kreacher serve you, Mistress Bellatrix?" Kreacher said, bowing at the witch's feet (currently in slippers).

He did not acknowledge Rodolphus Lestrange standing there, despite the wizard being a pureblood from a noble family. The House Elf was particular about who he served.

"I'm hungry, Kreacher, could you fix us something?" Bella requested, almost sweetly.

That tone of voice always scared Rodolphus. It was like sugar laced with poison.

Did Kreacher even know Bella had killed three House Elves with her own two hands and a knife just a few years ago?

"Yes, mistress, whatever you'd like." Kreacher nodded, bowing once more and then starting towards the kitchen.

Bella watched him disappear behind the swinging kitchen door, then took her seat at the head of the long mahogany table, by the portraits of herself and her family members.

Rod glanced at the painted faces and they glanced right back at him. It was unnerving. He never liked those animated paintings at Hogwarts, and it was even worse when the subjects of such were still alive and sitting right in front of him.

Rod reached for the chair of the seat across from Bella, the table's other head, with the window behind it.

Bella raised a thin eyebrow at him.

She did not have to say or do anything more than give him that look. Rodolphus let go of that chair and went over to the one next to Bella. At least she gave him the honor of sitting at her right hand and at least he would not have to look at those creepy moving portraits looking back at him.

"So who was that man?" Rod asked.

Bella grinned, "That 'man' isn't even just a man at all, Rod, he's the savior we purebloods have all been waiting for! He is the new Dark Lord!"

"The Dark Lord?" Rod repeated, "Like Grindelwald?"

" _Better."_ Bella declared, "He trained with the Grindelwald loyalists, but he surpassed them—"

"I think I read about someone like that in the Daily Prophet…" Rod recalled, "What's his name again?"

"He has many names." Bella stated, "But his true name is Lord Voldemort."

"Lord Voldemort?" Rod sniffed, "Is he French?"

"Why?" Bella inquired, "What does it mean?" Her French had never been as good or as practiced as her husband's.

"'Flight of death'—or 'from death', depending on the context." Rod translated.

Bella shrugged, "I wonder why he chose that instead of Slytherin."

"Slytherin?" Rod inquired.

"Oh, he's also the heir of Slytherin." Bella said, matter-of-factly, "His mother was a Gaunt."

"I see…" Rod accepted, tentatively, nodding.

Some clattering in the next room startled him.

Kreacher has come through the swinging kitchen door with a tray of breakfast foods—eggs, bacon, toast, danishes. He placed the tray on the table.

Rod had always been impressed with how efficiently House Elves worked. Even the most wifely witch would not be able to do housework as quickly. And Bella? Well, she would burn the kitchen down, and probably the whole house, down.

"Thank you, Kreacher." Bella thanked him, with that scarily sweet voice and even scarier smile.

Kreacher bowed again, "Thank you, Mistress Bellatrix. Kreacher loves serving you. You're a much better master than that nasty cousin of yours, Sirius."

Bella chuckled. Sirius Black was her second least favorite family member—right behind her disowned sister Andromeda.

Though the table had not previously been set, Bella waved her wand to make silverware and plates appear. The eggs and bacon floated onto her plate and she immediately stabbed at them with a steak knife.

Even though he was not hungry and had already eaten that morning, Rod picked up a piece of toast and bit into it.

Kreacher returned to his place under the table, curling on the floorboards. Bella slipped the House Elf a danish under the table, like a child would a dog. And like a dog, he gnawed on it like he had not eaten in weeks.

Rod glanced down at this, then back up at Bella.

"So why do you trust this 'Lord Voldemort'?" he asked her, "And what did you get us into?"

This made Bella grin even more excitedly. "We're going to have a revolution! A pureblood revolution! We're going to overthrow the Ministry and purify—"

"You're going to do _what?"_ Rod gasped, "You can't be serious, Bella. Even talking about that could get you sent to Azkaban! Is that where you want to end up?"

"We won't fail." Bella declared, pounding her fist, fork in hand, down onto the mahogany table.

Rod sighed, "Bella, think about this rationally—"

"The Dark Lord Voldemort is the most powerful wizard that ever lived!" Bella shouted, rising from her seat at the head of the table. "I personally witnessed the Dark Lord Voldemort preform ancient dark magic. It was awe-inspiring. I'd never seen anything like it before. Never met anyone more—"

"More powerful than you?" Rod guessed.

Bella nodded, setting down her fork atop her plate of bacon and eggs, "Yes."

Rod rolled his green eyes at that.

Bella had always had an inflated sense of her own abilities. Whether she admitted it or not, there were more powerful witches and wizards than her. Rod was just surprised she was admitting it for the first time.

A groan. Then, some shuffling in the hallway.

Bella and Rod glanced at each other, brows furrowed, and then looked back at the doorway.

The drunk who had been passed out in the library earlier stumbled into the diningroom, catching himself on the expensive table before he fell over.

"Where am I?" the man asked in a Russian accent. He stared with bloodshot eyes at Bella and Rod, "Who are you people?"

"Who are you?" Rod returned. He turned to Bella, "Bella, who is that?"

Bella shook her head of messy dark hair, "I don't know. The Dark Lord's friend from Hogwarts, I think. He was at the party last night. I forgot his name, if I ever even knew it."

"Where am I?!" the man demanded again, clutching the table he leaned forward against with both hands.

He tried to push off of it so he could stand upright, but instead lost his balance. Hands flailing, he cried out as he fell down under the table.

Kreacher, who was already crouched under the table, yelped and then scurried out from under it, barely avoiding the much larger body, whose weight could have crushed him. Then, grumbling, the House Elf stalked through the swinging door into the kitchen

Bella and Rod stared down at the drunk in shock and disgust, moving their feet under their chairs so he could not grab at their ankles. The sprawled drunk reached for them, anyway.

"You are pathetic, Dolohov."

The Lestranges looked up to see the Dark Lord Voldemort enter the diningroom.

Bella immediately stood, "My lord."

Rod remained in his seat next to her, eyeing her and the new 'Dark Lord' dubiously.

"Tom? Is that you?" asked the drunk, apparently named Dolohov, in a muffled voice from under the table.

"That is no longer my name." Voldemort declared from the doorway.

He flicked his wand and Dolohov cried out in pain under the table before passing out again (from the wine or the pain, it was unclear). He glanced down at the fallen man under then table, then looked back up at Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange.

Rod's green eyes gaped at seeing Voldemort nonchalantly hex someone like that. If Dolohov was Voldemort's 'friend', how did he treat his enemies?

Bella was just grinning at the sight, of course. She loved to see others in pain.

"How long does it take for you to explain things to your husband, Bellatrix?" Voldemort questioned, fingers tapping impatiently on his wand. "Or have you already forgotten about me now that your husband is back?"

"No, my lord!" Bella exclaimed. "I haven't, I would never!"

"The come back upstairs, Bellatrix." Voldemort replied, "We need to finish."

Finish _what?_ Rodolphus wondered. What had they been doing up there in Andromeda's old bedroom before he had come back from France?

"Yes, my lord." Bella said. _Oh, and the way she said it…_

Rod tensed in jealously. He could tell his wife was enamored with this new man. She always loved fresh meat—but this was different because this new man was not prey.

Bella stepped away from the table, starting towards Lord Voldemort, away from her husband, who impulsively reached out and grabbed her arm.

"Bellatrix!" Rod snapped, calling his wife by her first name which he only did when he was angry at her, "You need to tell me what's going on!"

Bella pulled herself out of Rod's weak grasp. She did not even bother to point her wand or her fury at him. Instead, she just laughed at him.

"Oh, Rodolphus, you are out of your depth here." she said, looking into his green eyes with her dark eyes and shaking her head.

Rod grimaced, skin pinking in shame. But this was not nearly the first time Bella had embarrassed him. He was used to it by now.

He watched helplessly as the Dark Lord led his wife away.

* * *

Upstairs, the burned black bedroom of the bloodtraitor was once again occupied by Bellatrix Lestrange and the Dark Lord Voldemort. But this time he sat in the chair and Bella stood before him.

"You want _me_ to look into _your_ mind, my lord?" Bella checked, eyes wide in shock, staring down at him from where she stood before him.

Lord Voldemort scoffed, "I want you to try. You won't succeed unless I let you. And if I let you, you won't see anything I don't want you to. I've been doing this longer than you've been alive."

Bella nodded. "Alright…" She lifted her wand, pointing it right at his pale face, looking directly into his red eyes. Because she was not practiced enough to use the spell wordlessly, she cried out loud _"Legilimens!"_

Nothing looked different. Voldemort was still sitting in front of her in the dark room. Nothing had changed.

But Bella was beginning to visualize _something_ , the way she would picture her own images and thoughts in her mind, except this _something_ she did not generate herself. What was it?

Bella squinted her eyes even though the image was in her mind and so squinting would not help her see it. She tried to concentrate. What was it?

What was it?

…a cloud of black smoke. That was all. All Bella could see of the Dark Lord Voldemort's mind was a cloud of black smoke.

Bella sighed, lowering her wand.

The Dark Lord smirked up at her from the chair, "Giving up so easily?"

"You're too powerful." Bella reasoned. She did not want to disappoint her lord but she not enjoy failing.

"Professor Slughorn didn't tell me you were lazy when he recommended you." Voldemort snapped, "Try again."

Groaning, Bella raised her wand. "Legilimens!"

The cloud of smoke floated in her mind's eye again. She closed her eyes completely this time, to see it without the interference of seeing Lord Voldemort sitting in front of her in the room that once belonged to her bloodtraitor little sister.

She focused…focused…there!

The black smoke was starting to clear. There was something past it. Rows of desks. It was Hogwarts—no, it was a different school…

* * *

**(1950)**

Durmstrang Institute kept its halls and even its classrooms dark when not in use. And so, this particular classroom—windowless to prevent distraction—was dark because class was not in session, even though there remained two people in the long room.

One was a girl, a student in a black uniform. The other was a man, a professor in black robes.

"You wanted to see me after class, professor?" the girl asked, flipping her long blonde hair back with her free hand. The other hand held her textbook and her notebook.

Durmstrang girls were _supposed_ to keep their hair in buns—long hair was 'distracting'. But Freya had untied her hair at the end of class in anticipation of speaking to the handsome new professor from England.

Professor Marvolo was pale and dark-haired. His eyes examined her. They were _blue._

"Yes, Miss Edda." He nodded, leaning on the professor's desk at the front of the dark classroom.

Boys and girls were taught separately at Durmstrang. So Professor Marvolo had just endured an hour of teenage girls.

"About what, sir?" Freya Edda asked, innocently. But she was smiling.

Professor Marvolo knew what she thought he wanted. What _she_ wanted. An annoying number of female students had crushes on him—it was his foreign British accent, he guessed.

"About your aunt." Professor Marvolo answered. "Her name is Idis Edda, right? She knew Gellert Grindelwald, didn't she? Some say she was even his lover."

Freya grimaced, glancing down at her shoes. "My family doesn't speak to her. We can't. She's been in hiding for years, since…you-know-who—"

"You can say his name, Miss Edda." Professor Marvolo interrupted, "It won't make him appear. He's locked away in Nurmengard."

Freya looked up, "I know. I just don't want anyone thinking I—or my family—support him. The students here act like he's a rebel hero, but we were all just kids during the war. They don't know anything about him but they still they draw his symbols in their notes during class like they actually know what they mean."

"The Deathly Hallows?" Professor Marvolo identified.

Freya nodded. "They can get away with it. If they get caught, they just say 'oh, it's an old wives tales—a children's story.' But some of them even draw the black phoenix, too, and _that's_ illegal."

"Do you know why Grindelwald adopted that symbol?" Professor Marvolo asked the student.

"To try to get the man from your country to come and join him." Freya stated, "He came and fought him instead."

"Albus Dumbledore." Professor Marvolo named. "He was my professor when I was in school, did you know that, Miss Edda? He could have defeated Grindelwald years ago, but instead he hid like a coward in the Hogwarts Castle, wasting his magic on transfiguration. It wasn't until the black phoenix flag flew, and Grindelwald took control of muggle armies, that Dumbledore finally confronted him."

"It doesn't sound as if you like him very much, sir." Freya commented.

"He should've _joined_ Gellert Grindelwald not stopped him." Professor Marvolo declared.

Freya gasped, "Professor, you could get arrested for talking like that!"

Professor Marvolo only smirked. "You won't tell on me, will you, Miss Edda?"

Freya shook her head. Then, she glanced behind her at the open classroom door, to make sure nobody was listening outside of it in the dark dimly-lit hall.

Suddenly, the door pulled shut.

Freya looked back at her professor. He held up his wand and was looking her in the eye.

"I'd really like to speak with your Aunt Idis." He restated, "I know you can get in touch with her. You'd do that for me, right?"

"Well, I suppose I could…" Freya considered. "But if anyone finds out—"

"No one will find out." Professor Marvolo assured, reaching with his free hand to pat her on the shoulder. That was all the convincing the girl needed.

"Alright, professor, I'll do it." Freya agreed.

* * *

Bella blinked. The Durmstrang classroom was gone. Dark eyes open she looked forward through the burned bedroom. Lord Voldemort was still sitting in the wooden chair before her.

"Why show me that?" Bella asked him, eyeing him.

He shrugged, "You showed me that same kind of memory."

"So you _have_ slept with a student?" Bella checked, hopefully. If one of his students had accomplished this, then maybe she could, as well.

Lord Voldemort did not answer the question. His facial expression was ambiguous and his mind unreadable—at least to Bella.

So, she followed up with "Why were your eyes blue back then? And why are they red now?"

Lord Voldemort did not answer that question, either.

Bella sighed, realizing she would never know for sure anything about the dark wizard she had agreed to follow.

Somehow the Dark Lord knew she was thinking this.

"If you really want to find out more about me, Bellatrix, try again." He invited.

So, Bella lifted her wand.

…but before she could cast the spell, the door to the dimly-lit bedroom turned classroom opened.

It was Rod, again, standing in the doorway. He had not blasted it, he had simply turned the knob and pushed. It was not locked.

Both Bella and Lord Voldemort turned to face him.

"What do you want now, Rod?" Bella snapped, "You interrupted us again."

"I am your husband, Bella, and you are my wife." Rod declared, "I have the right to know what you're doing here."

Bella glanced at Lord Voldemort seated in the chair next to her. He nodded. So she looked back at her husband.

"He's teaching me Occlumency and Legilimency." Bella informed him.

"Great." Rod smiled. "If that's all you're doing, there's no reason I can't observe—or participate. I'd like to learn, too."

"No—" Bella began. She did not want her husband here. She wanted the Dark Lord Voldemort all to herself.

"It's fine." Voldemort allowed, rising from the wooden chair, "Come in…what is your name?"

"Rodolphus Lestrange." Rod told him. "And yours is Lord Voldemort?"

"Yes." Voldemort nodded. He stepped away from the chair, and then gestured to it, "Take a seat, Rodolphus."

Rod looked at the Dark Lord, then looked at Bella, and then finally looked at the chair. He paused before slowly approaching it and sitting down. Bella and the Dark Lord stood over him.

"Bellatrix, you can practice on your husband." Lord Voldemort instructed, "Look into his mind and tell me what you find."

"Hey!" Rod exclaimed.

But Bella was already looking into his green eyes and pointing her wand at his face. "Legilimens!" she cried.

And nothing blocked her entry into Rodolphus Lestrange's mind. She could clearly hear his thoughts as if he was stating them out loud.

_Who does 'Lord Voldemort' bloke think he is? He can't just come in here and recruit my wife like this! I don't care if he's the Dark Lord or the Heir of Slytherin or Merlin himself. He needs to stay away from her!_

_Oh no. I shouldn't be thinking that. What if she's reading my mind right now? What if he is?_

They both were, of course.

Bella lowered her wand. Lord Voldemort folded his arms.

"You don't trust me, Rodolphus?" he asked.

Bella blinked, turning to him. "I thought you wanted _me_ to look into his mind, my lord."

"I did." Voldemort confirmed, "I just wasn't sure if you were going to be honest about what you found."

"I would've told you." Bella pouted, now folding _her_ arms.

"I can read _your_ mind, too, Bellatrix, remember that." Voldemort countered. He then turned to Rod, still seated in the chair in front of them. "Are you going to tell me why you don't trust me? Or should I search for the reason myself?"

Rod looked up at, then down at his lap. He sighed, "I don't know anything about you other than that I came home to find you locked in a room alone with my wife."

Voldemort smirked at that. "Any other reasons?"

"Bella told me you want to start a war and overthrow the Ministry." Rod said, "That's insane."

"He can do it!" Bella exclaimed, "If anyone can, it's him! He's the most powerful—"

"Do you have any proof of that, Bella?" Rod turned to snap at her, "Or you just believe whatever he tells you?"

"The Dark Lord does not have to prove himself to anyone!" Bella declared.

Lord Voldemort held up a hand to silence her. She immediately silenced.

"You want me to prove myself, Rodolphus? Fine." He accepted, "Let's duel."

* * *

Sunlight breached the gray clouds in the sky overlooking the back lawn of the Black Manor. There were some singe marks on the otherwise freshly-trimmed green grass. The glowing flowers that lit the cobblestone path last night had disappeared but water still spurted from the stone bird fountain's beak.

Rod was impressed with how the entire manor and grounds had been cleaned up. Still, he was annoyed that Bella probably only did it because the great 'Dark Lord Voldemort' was here.

Rod stood facing the older man, a few feet of grass between them. The frightening red eyes glared into his own green—he looked away, unable to hold the gaze.

There his wife Bella was, watching from her perch on the edge of the bird fountain. She was grinning eagerly.

This was not the first time she had watched men fight. Back at Hogwarts boys dueled over her all the time. In fact, she had purposely orchestrated such fights because they amused her—this situation was different, of course, but the satisfied smile on her face looked the same.

"What're you waiting for?" Bella asked. She had always been impatient.

Rod frowned at her, then sighed.

Why had he agreed to this, again? Oh yeah. He did not want to look like a coward in front of his wife when this new man was strutting around like Merlin's gift to magic.

Sure, he would look like a loser when he inevitably lost this duel. But at least he would not look like a coward. There was more dignity in defeat than retreat, his father had always said (of course, his father had retreated to France when he could not beat the laws in England…).

Rod turned to the so-called Dark Lord. "My wife probably already told you how many times she's disarmed me and worse. So this'll be quick if you're really as good as you say you are. But I'll have you know, I did Lucius Malfoy in a duel—"

Bella's snort interrupted him. " _Everyone's_ beaten Lucius Malfoy in a duel."

Rod wondered if Lord Voldemort even knew who Lucius Malfoy was. Probably not. Maybe he knew his father.

"I beat Augustus Rookwood." Rod tried again.

Voldemort probably did not know who that was, either.

Bella hmmed in consideration, "Yes, but that was only once."

"Still counts." Rod insisted.

The Dark Lord Voldemort cleared his throat. "You're wasting my time."

Rod turned towards him again, taking a deep breath. "Fine, let's get this over with."

He was a little scared but he had to do this. Maybe this 'Dark Lord' was lying about how powerful he was, Rod rationalized, maybe Rod would actually win.

The men took their bows, as was wizarding tradition, and then raised their wands.

As soon as they did, some spell or other was already whizzing towards Rod. He did not have time to cast a defense, he simply ducked, then shot a hex right back at his attacker.

It missed. A hedge caught on fire.

Bella was already laughing. So was Voldemort, chuckling just a little bit.

He blasted another curse in Rod's direction. Rod was able to block this one with a protective charm; a shield made of light deflected the spell, sending it back at Voldemort.

He stepped out of the way. The spell hit the gazebo. The wooden structure crumbled.

Sure, it had been weak with rot for years, but it had just been fixed. That curse Voldemort had cast was powerful.

Rod's green eyes widened in shock. But he only let himself stare at the fallen gazebo for a second. He had to pay attention to his opponent.

Another hex was already coming his way. Rod dived out of its range, onto the cobblestone path. The landing hurt, but not as bad at the hex would have.

From the ground, he aimed his own hex at Lord Voldemort. The dark wizard blocked it with a protective spell.

Now, Bella was cheering. But for who?

Rod stared at her as he hopped up from the cobblestone, pointing his wand at Voldemort.

The bush was completely ablaze behind the 'Dark Lord'. Its sticks crackled as they burned. It was even more distracting than Bella's laughter and cheers.

_Too_ distracting.

Rod did not notice the hex until it had knocked him over, backwards onto the ground. Again on the cobblestone path he realized he could not move. He was paralyzed.

He stared upwards at the sky. Somehow the sun managed to maneuver past the clouds to bore right into his green eyes. He could not even blink.

And then, pain.

Another curse hit him. Then another. And another.

He could not open his mouth to scream but there was agony. It was like he was on fire—though he had never really been on fire before, other than the Floo Network, so he did not know for sure.

"He already lost!" Bella's voice was shouting, "You can stop now!"

At first, she was out of Rod's field of view. But soon she was standing over him—until she jumped out of the way of yet another spell.

"The fight's over, my lord!" she cried, "You won!"

She was not laughing or cheering anymore.

Rod could see the look of fear on her face—a rare sight. Had he ever even seen it before?

He was in too much pain to clearly remember. And the curses continued to hit him.

Bella dropped to her knees on the grass. "My lord, please!"

Finally, Rod was able to see the Dark Lord Voldemort as he approached to stand over the fallen wizard. He was sneering down at Rod.

Rod would have glared and scowled back up, but he could not move. At least he was not getting struck with curses anymore, though residual pain remained.

"I've never seen you upset before, Bellatrix." Voldemort commented, looking down at the dark-haired witch. "And here I thought you didn't care about your husband at all."

Bella stared up at him from where she knelt next to her husband. Her dark eyes widened.

"…you wanted to see if I did." she realized, "And how much."

Voldemort nodded.

Bella narrowed her eyes. "You could've used legilimency for that."

"This was more fun." Voldemort shrugged.

Slowly, Bella stood. "I have to take my husband inside now and tend to him. If that's alright with you, my lord."

Voldemort nodded again.

Bella lifted her wand and with the movement, Rod felt himself being lifted off of the ground of the backyard.

As he floated above the cobblestone path to the Black Manor, escorted by his wife, Rod stared back at the back lawn, watching the Dark Lord Voldemort get smaller and smaller as he got further and further away.

The Dark Lord looked back at him. And the look in his frightening red eyes told Rod that there would be worse to come.


	7. The Catacombs

Lord Voldemort had no reason to follow Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange inside the Black Manor, upstairs to the third floor where the wife lay her injured husband on the twin-size bed of her childhood bedroom. He had no reason eavesdrop on the married couple.

But he did.

In the dark hallway, stood at the locked door and listened to their voices.

" _Just lay down. I'll heal you—"_

Bellatrix's voice.

" _Let me do it, Bella. You've never been good at healing spells."_

Rodolphus Lestrange's voice. He grunted in discomfort, the pain from the curse still lingering.

" _Fine."_

" _This is all your fault, you know."_

The hum of a healing spell gliding over an injured, uncomfortable body. A sigh of relief.

" _My fault? You agreed to duel the Dark Lord. Surely you knew the risks."_

" _You've known this man for all of two days and he's your 'lord' now? Bella, what are you thinking?"_

" _I'm thinking that this is our chance to re-establish Pureblood Superiority, that's what I'm thinking, Rod. Don't tell me you don't believe in that anymore—"_

" _I do, I do, but—"_

" _But what?"_

"… _I'm afraid, Bella. Not just of the Ministry finding out, or a war starting. But of him. Of 'Lord Voldemort'. If he doesn't get us all killed with his mad plans, then he might just kill us himself."_

" _He would never!"_

" _You saw what he did to his 'friend' today. He hexed him just for calling him by the wrong name. You saw what he did to me, Bella. He was using the cruciatus curse—for what? A simple duel? He had already won but he kept attacking."_

" _You're the one who asked him to prove himself."_

" _He's dangerous. Why do you trust him? Why do you worship him?"_

Bellatrix was cackling now. Like high-pitched thunder.

" _So that's what this is about Roddy. You're jealous—"_

" _No, I just—"_

" _Yes you are! You're jealous! You wish I followed you like I do him. You wish I called you 'my lord'. Well, guess what, Rodolphus? I will never follow you and you will never be my lord—"_

" _But you're still my wife!"_

The sound of some kind of spell whizzed. Some object in the room smashed.

Was this a typical fight between the couple? Voldemort imagined that fights must have gotten violent between the Lestranges since Bellatrix was involved.

Bellatrix was laughing again, now, but it was different this time. Softer, almost sad. A strange sound from someone like her.

" _Oh, Rod, when did having me as your wife mean anything to you? This was always a marriage of tradition rather than love. For both of us."_

" _When did any_ man _mean anything to_ you _, Bella? I've never seen you look at anyone that way before."_

" _I've never been so impressed with anyone before. He's the most brilliant wizard I've ever met."_

" _You're sleeping with him."_

" _I'm really not. Honestly. There have been other men, you know that, but not him. And why do you care either way? It's not like you've been lonely. You think I don't know about your mistress in Paris? She's pregnant, now isn't she, Rod?"_

" _How did you—nevermind. Yes she is pregnant. I'm finally going to be a father. You never wanted to have any children. I have to carry on my family line somehow—"_

" _She doesn't have your name and neither will your child. Only I have that 'privilege' as your wife."_

" _Really? But isn't your 'lord' the heir of Slytherin through his mother's line?"_

"… _yes. He is."_

" _So the Lestrange line will continue, too. Besides, even if she hadn't gotten pregnant, I'm sure my brother has some French bastards running around somewhere."_

For a third time, Bellatrix laughed. And this time it sounded genuine. That truly surprised Voldemort.

" _I'm happy for you, Rod. I'm glad your mistress satisfied your need for an heir. But tell me, does she satisfy all your needs? Truly?"_

" _Well, she's more the…mothering type than you are, Bella. She should be the wife and you the mistress."_

Bellatrix snorted.

" _We both know you're the 'wife', Rod. Now are you feeling up to satisfying your 'husband', or are you still weak from losing the fight?"_

" _Actually, I think I feel better now..."_

The next noise was Bellatrix climbing onto the bed where her husband lay.

Upon hearing this, Voldemort quickly walked away from the locked door. There were somethings he did not want to overhear.

* * *

The Rosiers and Averys were gone from the sittingroom, returned to their respective homes, as was Kreacher from the diningroom, returned to his post at Grimmauld Place serving the other Blacks. Now, it was Cygnus and Druella Black, eating a late lunch at the long table (which Druella had burned), and Lord Voldemort and his drunk friend Dolohov (no longer drunk or hungover) having a conversation in the sittingroom, its black curtains drawn shut making it dark.

Bella chose the sittingroom upon arriving downstairs. She was still in her nightgown as she had been _almost_ all day, and now looked even more disheveled as she had just gotten out of bed for a _second_ time.

The Dark Lord Voldemort and Dolohov turned to look at her as she entered the dimly-lit room of dreary wallpaper and dark-colored furniture. Lord Voldemort was seated in her father's armchair, Dolohov on the couch.

"My lord." Bella greeted the former, ignoring the latter.

Dolohov raised an eyebrow. "You never even have to try with women and they talk to you like that."

Lord Voldemort turned his red eyes towards the man. "You have to call me that, too, now."

"Excuse me?" Dolohov blinked, taken aback. "That's a little…" he paused, furrowing his brow as he searched for the right word in English. He could not think of one, though there were several in Russian that came to mind.

Voldemort rolled his red eyes. "Your mind is a sewer, Dolohov, just like Bellatrix's. Which reminds me," he turned to look at the witch, "It's been two hours, Bellatrix. We're supposed to be continuing your training. What could have possibly been more important?"

"I was tending to my husband, my lord." Bella stated, matter-of-factly. She knew he already knew exactly where she had been and what she had been doing. She hoped he was jealous.

Dolohov chuckled at that explanation from where he reclined on the couch.

He was eying Bella intently, but she would not even glance at him. He was not from any of the English pureblood families. His name and his accent were foreign, he might as well have been a mudblood, for all she knew and cared.

"Where is your husband now?" Voldemort asked from the armchair.

"Resting." Bella said, "He's tired from his duel with you, my lord."

"I'm sure that's not the only reason." Dolohov muttered, wryly.

Finally Bella noticed him. But only to briefly glare in his direction.

Lord Voldemort did the same. Then looked back at Bella, red eyes into dark eyes.

"It seems your husband has been a distraction for you ever since he returned." he noted, "Is this going to become a reoccurring problem, Bellatrix?"

"No, my lord." Bella shook her head of messy, long dark hair. She was trying not to smile. So he _was_ jealous. Probably.

"When's it my turn to be a 'distraction', _krasivaya?"_ Dolohov asked, "Tye Nott told me about you—"

"Enough, Dolohov." Voldemort silenced, aiming his wand and a warning look at the Russian man.

Bella grinned. _Her lord was defending her honor!_

Then, the Dark Lord turned to her. "Bellatrix, it's one thing if _you_ get around, it's another if _word_ does. Like I told you before, stop doing things that embarrass yourself—and me, by extension."

"But Nott was _years_ ago, you saw—" Bella tried.

"Get your husband up." Lord Voldemort interrupted to order, "I want him to take us to visit his father in France."

Bella nodded, "Yes, my lord."

"France?" Dolohov repeated eagerly, "French girls are beautiful."

"You're not going, Antonin." Voldemort said, turning to the man on the couch, "I want you to visit Tye Nott and Myrdin Mulciber, too, and see if they'll join me."

Antonin Dolohov nodded from where he sat on the couch. Bella learned his first name for the first time. He was 'Dolohov' when Lord Voldemort was angry at him, 'Antonin' when Lord Voldemort was not, it seemed.

Dolohov hopped up from the couch, pulling his wand out from last night's ruffled dressrobes.

"Alright." He agreed, "I wouldn't mind seeing Tye's wife again. She's nice to look at. Myrdin's wife…well, he's had low standards since Hogwarts."

He flicked his wand and disapparated out of the dimly-lit sittingroom. Bella and Lord Voldemort watched him disappear, then Bella turned back to the spiral staircase.

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange wore a green dress, the family color of the Lestranges—and of the Slytherins. She had also cast a charm to untangle her long black locks and applied her usual lipstick. She had to look presentable if she was visiting her in-laws, after all.

Her husband Rodolphus, and even the Dark Lord Voldemort himself, thought she looked stunning—though only the former said so out loud. Rodolphus' clothing and general appearance had improved from the earlier duel aftermath. He no longer seemed to be in residual pain—though every once in a while he would glare at Voldemort.

Now, the three stood in the darkened library, between the ceiling-high shelves of books, in front of the unlit fireplace.

"Do you have the floo powder, Rod?" Bellatrix asked her husband.

They could not apparate between different countries. Even the floo network was difficult internationally; they would have to stop at the International Floo Network headquarters, and then take a separate fireplace from there to their destination in France.

Rodolphus nodded, pulling the small pouch of the stuff out of his robe pocket. He turned to her, and then to Voldemort. "Who's first?"

"I'll go—" Bellatrix began, but was interrupted.

A flash of green fire erupted in the fireplace. Rabastan Lestrange, lugging two large suitcases, emerged from the flames.

His green eyes blinked, adjusting to the dark, and then blinked again in surprise at seeing three people standing in front of him. He looked at his older brother. "I got the suitcases, Rod."

"We're going back to France." Rodolphus informed him, "Turn around."

"Again?!" Rabastan groaned, letting go of the suitcases to throw his hands up towards the library ceiling. "But I just got here!"

" _Go."_ Rodolphus ordered.

Sighing, Bas picked up the suitcases again, turned around and returned to the fireplace.

* * *

Deep in the dark tunnels of in the Paris Catacombs, the wall of skulls, cracked and fossilized, rumbled. Slowly, it split into two halves and slid apart.

It looked as if the Gates of Hell themselves had opened.

(But really, it was just the gates to _L'Intersection_ , the French equivalent of Diagon Alley. It spanned for miles beneath the city of Paris, even lower underground than the muggle subway system.)

Rodolphus had been the one to wave his wand, opening them. He stepped aside, gesturing exaggeratedly to the doorway he had created, "Voilà."

Bellatrix Lestrange, Rabastan Lestrange and Lord Voldemort stepped through the gates.

Inside _L'Intersection_ was a grand hall with a curved, high ceiling, brightly lit like daylight though there was no sky. Shops, restaurants, pubs and inns lined the two secret tunnel walls, punctuated by more skulls. Crowds, their steady hum in French, flitted back and forth across the stone streets.

The Dark Lord Voldemort gazed at the thriving commotion. He had never been here before.

But even Bellatrix, who had been here a few times since her marriage to Rodolphus Lestrange, was impressed by the sight before her. Her green dress stood out the crowd wearing chic French black robes.

It was Rodolphus that led the way. He strode directly into the bustling catacomb crowd. His wife, his brother, and the new Dark Lord followed, hurrying to keep up and weaving to avoid bumping into people.

Voldemort did not like following someone else. He knew he should be the one leading. He already did not like Rodolphus Lestrange, but unfortunately he was in the less powerful wizard's territory.

That was evident when several well-dressed wizards stopped to greet Rodolphus on the street…and several beautiful witches smiled at him as he passed, saying nothing since his wife was with him today.

They passed a loud tavern. Then, a wand shop. Then, a grocery store of exotic magical foods. There was an antique shop that Voldemort thought he might want to stop into later, if they had time.

Rodolphus turned a corner. The other three followed.

* * *

The corner led into another tunnel, devoid of shops but lined with more skulls.

The skulls' empty eyesockets stared at the wizards and witch as they walked. The wizards and witch stared back.

Bellatrix snickered, "The best use of muggles I've seen yet."

Voldemort smirked at that, just a little. They had the same sense of humor, it seemed.

Rodolphus rolled his green eyes. Rabastan was wheezing, lagging behind the other three, the suitcases heavy in his tired arms.

Rodolphus stopped and glanced back at him, "Hurry up, Bas."

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Bas called, stopping as well, letting go of the suitcases to place his hands on his thighs, leaning forward to rest.

Bellatrix and Voldemort were the last two to stop. They turned around, raising their eyebrows in confusion.

"Why doesn't he just use a spell?" Bellatrix wondered aloud. She waved her wand at the suitcases. They rose into the air…

…and then dropped.

Bellatrix furrowed her brow.

Rodolphus turned to her, "They're my father's. They would be weightless if he lifted them, with his hands or his wand. But to anyone else, they're heavy like stones. It's to stop thieves."

"Why'd you make him use those suitcases, then?" Bellatrix asked.

At that Rodolphus just chuckled, glancing back at his struggling little brother again.

Legilimencing into Rodolphus' mind, Voldemort saw the older brother was punishing the younger for sleeping with his wife since he was too afraid to punish the wife herself for initiating it. Apparently it had been more than just the one time at Hogwarts Bellatrix had shown him.

They continued down the tunnel of skulls.

* * *

The tunnel led to the wide open mouth of a cave. Its walls were rock and ore instead of stone and skull. The rock ceiling rattled above as an underground train passed over, freeing some tiny pebbles that fell like rain and dust that fell like mist.

Voldemort glared up when one struck his head.

Bellatrix held out both hands to catch some of the pebble dust like it was fresh falling snow.

Rodolphus and Rabastan ignored the rockfall, they were used to it. They continued forward (the latter much slower than the former, as he was dragging the suitcase) through the cave.

* * *

Finally, the four reached the end of the cave. Built into its rocky walls were rows of cages made of metal bars.

Inside the first was a dignified gray-feathered hippogriff. He was curled on the stone floor as if asleep, but watching the passersby with an intense gaze.

Inside the second were a collection of blue pixies. They buzzed about the cage, gripping the bars, and banging against the empty air when they tried to escape through the spaces.

And inside the third cage was unicorn, pale like the horse of Death, its horn like a sword ready to kill—and yet, the creature looked so innocent and pure, so much so that it seemed unaware that it was trapped in a cage.

Voldemort could not help but stare in fascination at the creatures.

"This is what your father sells?" he asked Rodolphus.

Rodolphus nodded, "This is just the display. Wait until you see inside."

His overt pride bothered Voldemort.

So what if Rodolphus and Reynard had a lot money and exotic magical creatures? They had not earned any of it themselves—none of the living members of the Old Families had.

Voldemort had been born with nothing—no money, no parents, not even pure blood—and yet he was more powerful than they were. For that reason alone he should have been the one to rule—even if it was not his birthright as Heir of Slytherin.

"It's illegal to sell unicorns." Voldemort stated.

"In England, yes." Rodolphus chuckled. "Not in France."

Rodolphus led the three others to the wooden doubledoors. They opened for him without him even having to wave his wand.

In the stone above them was carved the name _Lestrange._

* * *

Beyond the wooden doubledoors was another store. It was dimly lit by a greenish glow and resembled a pet shop—just on a grander scale.

More metal cages protruded from the three of the four long walls making the room. Inside them were more hippogriffs, pixies and unicorns, along with imps, gnomes and even thestrals.

The skeletal and hairless creatures cried out a sad, longing sound from behind the metal bars of their cages. Two adults and a juvenile. The young one flapped its wings, though it had never flown. The adults given up on raising their wings years ago.

Bellatrix and Voldemort stopped to gaze at them in interest. Rodolphus and Rabastan stopped to gaze at _them_ in confusion.

"It's just an empty cage…" Rabastan muttered, finally setting down the suitcases.

Voldemort chuckled at that.

"What are they?" Bellatrix wondered. She had not killed any human or seen anyone die until after she had graduated from Hogwarts.

"Thestrals." Rodolphus answered before Voldemort could. "I can't see them. Who have you killed, Bella?" he was only half joking. He knew his wife well.

Bellatrix eyed her husband, "You have to kill someone to see them?"

"You just have to have seen someone die." Voldemort answered before Rodolphus could.

"Muggles count?" Bellatrix checked.

Both Voldemort and Rodolphus nodded.

"I should've known what you were up to while I was gone." Rodolphus muttered. It did not seem to surprise or phase him that his wife was killing muggles.

In the center of the store was an expansive aquarium, reaching almost as tall as the ceiling and almost as long as the length of the room. Inside its waters swam grindylows, piranhas, and a lone mermaid.

Then, there was a dry tank. Curled inside it was a long, thick snake.

The snake noticed Voldemort before he noticed the snake. It hissed to him.

" _Salazar's blood runs through your veins. Not purely—but it's there. Please, sir, you have to release me."_

He stopped, turning and replying to it in parseltongue. _"Why?_

" _It is your duty as a descendent of Slytherin. My ancestors once helped him now you must help me."_

Bellatrix, Rodolphus and Rabastan all gaped. All they could hear were strange hissing sounds.

"Did you just…talk to that snake?" Rabastan checked, pointing at the curled reptile in the tank but furrowing his forehead at Voldemort.

"Parseltongue…" Rodolphus identified.

"My lord, you truly are the heir of Slytherin!" Bellatrix exclaimed enthusiastically.

"What did it say?" Rabastan asked him, "The snake?"

" _She_ asked me to free her." Voldemort said, raising his wand.

"Well, 'she' is for sale if you want to buy 'her'." Rodolphus shrugged.

"Really?" Voldemort replied, "I thought you would give the snake to me as a gift." He turned to Bellatrix, "Right, Bellatrix?"

Bellatrix nodded at him, then turned to her husband, "Give it to him."

"I'll have to ask my father first…" Rodolphus grumbled. "We're here to talk to _him,_ aren't we? Not to the animals the animals." He shot a disdainful glance at Voldemort out of the corner of one green eye.

Then, he started striding again. Rabastan and Bellatrix followed. Voldemort said one more thing to the snake, then followed as well.

The four walked all the way to the fourth wall of the store, which instead of cages, continued the front cashier's desk.

A red-haired young woman sat behind the wooden desk on a stool. She looked up from the magazine in her hands when she heard footsteps on the stone floor.

"You're back again, Rod, Rabastan?" she said in a French accent, blue eyes blinking in surprise.

Rodolphus laughed, "Looks like it, Elise."

The red-haired woman, Elise, turned to Bellatrix in even greater surprise, "Oh, and your wife's here, too."

"Hello, _Miss_ Scabior." Bellatrix greeted.

Their voices were cold and their body language tense. Voldemort did not need to look into their minds to understand the situation. The red-haired woman, Elise Scabior, must have been the mistress Bellatrix and Rodolphus had mentioned during their earlier argument.

Elise was looking at him now. "Who is your new guest?"

"He's here to see my father." Rodolphus told her.

Elise nodded. "You can go in now, but you may have to wait."

She stood up from the stool. Now, the front desk no longer obscured the lower half of her body. Beneath her baggy robes her stomach ballooned. She was pregnant.

Behind the front desk and the woman in the stool was another door. Elise walked waddled over to it and opened it.

Rodolphus, Rabastan, Bellatrix and Voldemort walked around the cashier's desk, and through the door.

* * *

Voldemort had expected an office behind the door. Instead it was an _auction hall_ with stalactites hanging from its rock ceiling.

From rows of chairs wizards and witches held up their hands, shouting out their bids. From the stage in the front a man in green dressrobes called out quickly and loudly in French.

Reynard Lestrange.

Behind him on the stage stood House Elves, chained to each other, beneath the bright stagelights. They not dressed in rags but instead naked so that they were on full display for the prospective buyers.

Under the bright stagelights, Reynard soon noticed his sons, his daughter-in-law and a man that looked somewhat familiar in the back row. He paused mid-sentence telling his customers in French, "We're going to take a quick break and resume the bidding in an hour."

Some French grumbling from the crowd in the rows of seats. Their hands dropped and so did the volume of their voices.

Leaving the naked House Elves chained behind him, Reynard hopped off the stage. He jogged through the aisle between the rows of wizards and witches watching him, all the way to the back of the hall where Rabastan, Rodolphus, Bellatrix and the familiar-looking man stood.

"Father." Rodolphus greeted.

"My sons." Reynard smiled at Rodolphus and Rabastan. They looked just like him, brown hair and green eyes. "Back already? And you've brought company. Hello Bellatrix."

"Hello, Mr. Lestrange." Bella greeted politely.

Reynard then turned to the third, familiar-looking man. "Excuse me, sir, I know you, don't I? I just can't remember your name. I think it was Tim or Tom—"

"Don't say it." Rodolphus warned, "He hexed the last person who called him by that name."

Reynard's green eyes widened in mild surprise. Then he laughed, "Oh, then he's most definitely who I think he is." He turned to the man he now was certain was Tom Riddle, "How have you been, uh, what should I call you?"

Voldemort opened his mouth to answer but Bellatrix was faster.

"He is the Dark Lord Voldemort!" she declared.

Voldemort glared at her, "We don't need to tell him in front of all these people." He motioned to the crowd of bidders in rows of chairs, conversing amongst themselves.

Reynard waved his hand dismissively, "Most of them don't speak English, anyway, and the ones that do would have no qualms with another 'Dark Lord'—which begs the question, since when were _you_ a 'Dark Lord'?"

"I can tell you everything, Mr. Lestrange." Bellatrix declared, eager to be the prophet for a third time.

"But you won't, Bellatrix." Voldemort quickly prevented, "You took too long telling your husband. _I_ will tell Reynard Lestrange."

"Alright." Reynard accepted, "Tell me."

* * *

All the books in Reynard Lestrange's office were filled with financial records instead of text. The ones from previous years—centuries, even—were stocked in the bookshelves.

The one from this year, 1977, was open on Reynard's otherwise uncluttered desk. It had far more black than red ink.

Reynard closed it anyway before moving to sit behind his desk, facing the man who called himself the Dark Lord. The other three had been instructed to wait outside.

There was some cracking. The men turned to look at the small wooden table on the other side of the desk from the bookshelf.

On top of its surface sat an incubator, bright and warm. Inside it was a slowly cracking egg.

"You sell dragons, too?" Voldemort asked.

Reynard nodded, "Do you want one?"

Voldemort shook his dark-haired head. "No. But I want the snake. Your son said I could have it for free."

Reynard chuckled, "Did he? How generous of him. The truth is I've been trying to get rid of it since the Indian merchant traded it to me. It just keeps getting bigger and the amount of live rats it eats a day is getting expensive—"

"She." Voldemort corrected, "The snake is a 'she'."

"She." Reynard accepted, "Well, _she_ doesn't eat like a normal reptile. She eats like a warm-blooded creature, twice daily. Are you prepared to feed it enough? If you don't she will eat you."

"I can make sure she doesn't eat me." Voldemort assured.

"Then it—she—is yours." Reynard gifted, then changed the subject, "So what did you really come here to talk about?"

"Abraxas Malfoy." Voldemort stated, "He told me and the rest of the Purebloods in England that he supports me as the Dark Lord. But…"

"You don't trust him?" Reynard guessed, raising a brown eyebrow.

"No, I don't." Voldemort affirmed.

"Neither do I." Reynard sympathized, "His family has been the richest for centuries, but now I have more money than he does and he knows that. When I moved my business to France, I took all of my money out of Gringotts because the Malfoys have too much power there. The goblins are under Abraxas' control."

The Goblins were under the control of Abraxas Malfoy? That explained why they did not join Voldemort that night in the forest when the Werewolves, Vampires, Giants and Acromantulas did.

"You know him better than I do." Voldemort stated, "I'd like you to talk to him for me, figure out if he's truly loyal."

Reynard grimaced.

"Abraxas and I are not exactly on 'talking' terms anymore." He said, "We haven't been since I left England. You've been gone so long, and so far away, so I understand why you weren't aware. And I'm sorry if you came all this way just to ask me to talk to Abraxas for you because I can't."

Now, it was Voldemort who grimaced. The news surprised him. During their Hogwarts years, Abraxas and Reynard had been best friends.

"Who would Abraxas talk to?" Voldemort wondered aloud.

Reynard shrugged. "I'm not sure. He tells all the English purebloods what to do, but he doesn't tell them why. His son, Lucius, might be the only one he's honest with, and even then I doubt he tells him everything."

Voldemort nodded. "Abraxas' son Lucius…hmm, I'll see what Bellatrix can find out."

Reynard raised a brown eyebrow.

"Lucius' wife is her sister." Voldemort clarified. "I meant that she could speak with her about what he knows."

"Ah." Reynard understood. "So what exactly is the plan that you want Abraxas to support?"

"Without going into detail, I plan to overthrow the Ministry of Magic and establish a new government that eventually will rule not only the Wizarding World, but the Muggle one as well." Voldemort informed.

Reynard's green eyes widened. "…you can't be serious."

"I know it sounds overly ambitious, but it's been done before." Voldemort replied.

"By Gellert Grindelwald." Reynard recalled, "And how did that work out for him?"

"I won't make the same mistakes he did." Voldemort dismissed, "He claimed he wanted to make the muggles his slaves, yet ended up allying with their armies during the war."

"The Axis Powers." Reynard named, "Grindelwald needed the numbers. If you don't use muggles, what will you do? There are fewer wizards than muggles, even fewer purebloods."

"I have other support." Voldemort shrugged ambiguously. He did not need to mention the inferi, or the Werewolves, Vampires, Giants, and Acromantulas. Not until he knew he could trust Reynard. "But the question is now, are you among it?"

"I live in France." Reynard said, "I can't get involved with British politics. My sons, however, I'm sure would be happy to help you, as would my daughter-in-law—which she probably already made clear."

"She did." Voldemort confirmed, "But your older son, Rodolphus, does not seem to like me."

Reynard laughed at that, "He doesn't like any man that gets too close to his wife—which is almost every man. But he'll do what his wife tells him to—and what _I_ tell him to. So will Rabastan."

"Good." Voldemort accepted, "But neither you nor your son should worry. There is nothing between Bellatrix and me."

"Of course not." Reynard chuckled.

It was obvious he did not believe it. He knew his daughter-in-law well enough by now. Perhaps he was even another one of her father's friends she had slept with.

But as long as Reynard Lestrange and his sons supported Voldemort, it did not matter…and he might as well have been sleeping with Bellatrix, anyway, since both father and son were convinced he was.

* * *

It was nearly dark by the time Bella, Rod, Bas, and the Dark Lord Voldemort returned to the Black Manor—which meant the old house was even darker than it had been all day. They stepped one at a time out of the fireplace in the dim library.

Bella exited first, waiting in the dark beside the wall-sized shelf of books for the three others. Lord Voldemort was second, then Rod, then Bas.

Bas was lugging those spell-heavy suitcases again. As soon as he had emerged from the green flames he dropped them with a thud and a sigh of relief onto the hardwood floors.

Rod turned around to look at him, "You were supposed to take those to the London house."

Bas blinked his green eyes in surprise, "Why?"

Rod groaned. "Because there isn't enough room for us here."

The manor was three stories high and many rooms full. Of course there was room. Rod just though the old place was creepy, Bella knew that.

Lord Voldemort turned around to look at Rod. "Rodolphus, did you bring the snake?"

Rod glanced back at Lord Voldemort, then turned to Bas "Bas, Did you bring the snake?"

"No!" Bas exclaimed in frustration, "I brought the suitcases! I thought _you_ were bringing the snake!"

"Go get it." Rod ordered.

"But…" Bas attempted, sighing and giving up his protest before finishing. He slouched and trudged back into the fireplace.

When he had disappeared in a puff of green smoke, Rod waved his wand at the suitcases. Somehow, he was now able to pick them up with ease.

"I'm taking these to the London house, Bella." Rod informed his wife, "I'll be back for you soon."

And with that, Rod stepped into the fireplace and now _he_ disappeared in a puff of green smoke. Bella and the Dark Lord Voldemort watched him go.

* * *

The small suitcase lay open on Bella's small childhood bed. Her mother had attempted to change the sheets for her while she was gone, but had not managed to get the bottom sheet over the twin-size mattress. She really was useless without her House Elves…

The few articles of clothing Bella had brought to the Black Manor from her the Lestrange's London house flew from the open drawers of the dresser into the open suitcase as directed by her wand. A dress, some robes, ooh some lacy underwear she had not had the occasion to wear in a while.

Bella watched idly from where she sat on the windowsill, the view of the almost-set sun behind her in the violet sky.

She left the door to her dimly-lit bedroom open. She hoped that her lord would come to say something to her before she left—maybe even ask her to stay—but he had not yet.

The Dark Lord Voldemort was the most confusing and interesting man she had ever met. She had not had a crush like this since Hogwarts, and even then, no one had fascinated her like this before. All the other boys and men in her life seemed weak and worthless in comparison.

Voices downstairs.

"Would you like to join us for dinner, Tom?"

The voice of Cygnus Black, Bella's father. She expected to hear him cry out in pain next, as he had used the name that the great Dark Lord Voldemort hexed people over.

Instead, all she heard was "No, thank you." Lord Voldemort's voice. He had spared her father. So merciful.

There was a faint smell of burning. Her mother Druella must have been trying to cook again.

"Bella! Dinner's ready!"

Her mother's shrill voice shouted up from the bottom floor to the top. Bella groaned at is sound.

"I'm not hungry, mother!" she shouted back down. That was a lie. She had not eaten since her late breakfast, but she was sick of her mother's cooking.

Now Bella could hear footsteps climbing the spiral stairs. It better not be her parents…

Oh. Bella blinked her dark eyes in surprise. The Dark Lord stood in her open doorway. Finally.

"My lord." Bella said.

She stepped down from the windowsill and started across the wooden floor towards him. The clothing arched above her on its way through the air from the drawers to the suitcase.

Lord Voldemort's red eyes glanced at the flying clothes, all black like the suitcase and the blankets it sat on. The movement was clearly annoying him as he flicked his wand and the clothes fell, some into the suitcase, some onto the bed, and some onto the floorboards.

"Why are you leaving?" he asked, "You have to continue your training."

Was he asking her not to leave? Bella hoped so. But his pale face and tone of voice was devoid of subtext and so hers had to be as well.

"I will." Bella promised, "I'll be back tomorrow. And the day after that. And all the days after that until it's time to put what I learn into action."

"It's more convenient if you stay here." Voldemort reasoned.

Oh, so he was asking her to stay. Bella smirked.

"But my lord, the bed is too small to fit both my husband and I." She gestured at the twin-sized mattress against the wall across from the dresser.

"I didn't say I wanted _him_ to stay here." Voldemort replied.

Bella's smile grew. She was glad she did not remove her lipstick.

"So _I'm_ the one you want then?" Bella twisted the words like the strand of her hair she twisted around her wand.

Oops. It was stuck.

She let the wand hang from her long hair, not trying to free it from her tresses, and still smiling.

Lord Voldemort reached forward. Bella had stood close enough to him that he could pull the wand from her hair, which is what she wanted him to do. He did and then handed it to her.

She was looking up at him, into his red eyes with her dark ones, eagerly. Her plan was working. All she had to do was wait and he would lean down and—

"I know what you're thinking, Bellatrix." Voldemort stated, "Your husband hasn't been gone half an hour and you want me to kiss you."

Bella shrugged, "In my defense, I wanted you to kiss me when he was here, too."

The Dark Lord probably knew that, too, though. He must have been reading her mind. (Or maybe her actions were so transparent they made her motives obvious? Bella did not care either way, as long as she got what she wanted.)

She really wished she could see into his mind now, more than just what he was willing to show her during the lesson. Then she would know whether she was intriguing him or disgusting him. Whether she should give up her attempts or continue them.

"You wouldn't care if he knew?" Voldemort checked.

"I was never faithful to him and I was never discrete about that." Bella said, without answering the question. She could tell that Lord Voldemort already knew it would upset Rod to see her with another man—even if he had another woman himself.

"But you rushed to his side after I defeated him, and into bed with him after that." Voldemort reminded.

Was that the tiniest hint of jealousy on the Dark Lord's face? Or was that just wishful thinking in Bella's mind? She could not tell. The man was inhumanly inexpressive.

"He's my husband." Bella responded, matter-of-factly, "It's my duty."

"From now on your duty is to me." Lord Voldemort declared, "And only to me."

And before Bella's red lips could smile again he kissed her. He finally kissed her. She would have squealed in delight had her mouth not been busy.

She leaned upwards towards his face, probably giving him more passion than he had wanted. He almost tripped backwards with her force, startled by it.

But Lord Voldemort did not push Bella off of him.

If there was one thing she knew about men it was that once they had gotten started they would rarely ever stop. This might have been her only chance with the Dark Lord, Bella knew, and she was not going to waste it.

And speaking of 'waste', Bella felt Voldemort put his hands around her waist as she tried to steer him towards the bed—hard to do with their eyes closed. Were his eyes closed, too?

Bella peeked her dark eyes open. She found herself staring into red ones. Awkward. She had not had a moment like that since she was a teenager. Lord Voldemort was as old as her parents. He should have learned by now to close his eyes while kissing.

It occurred to Bella then that maybe he was not like the other men she knew. He was not married at his age. Maybe he had been so focused on learning the Dark Arts there had been few to no women in his life.

And if that were the case, then that meant Bella was special. She smiled into the kiss and closed her eyes again…

"Bellatrix!"

Bella's dark eyes popped open. So did Lord Voldemort's red ones. The whipped apart and towards the bedroom doorway. They had left it open. Rodolphus Lestrange stood in it.

He shook his head of brown hair bitterly. "I knew it, I knew the moment I saw you two together in your sister's room. But what I just don't understand is why you _lied_ about it, Bella?"

"Rod—" Bella tried, pale skin pinking.

"You always tell me about the other men, Bella." Rod interrupted to continue, "But you denied this one. And I know why. He's actually important to you."

He turned his green glare towards Lord Voldemort. Then he turned his wand towards him, too.

Lord Voldemort scoffed. "Do you really want to challenge me again?"

Rod gritted his teeth but lowered his wand. Without saying anything else, he turned and exited the doorway.

Bella started after him but felt a thin hand grab her thin arm. She stopped, looking back at the Dark Lord.

"You did this on purpose." She realized, "You wanted him to see us."

Voldemort released her arm and smirked. "He won't be a distraction for you anymore."

He had been playing her, Bella knew now. It did not anger her. In fact, it made her want him more.

"Then I guess you'll have to be, my lord." She said, already leaning up to kiss him again.


	8. Beautiful War

Sex was disgusting. Debasing. Animalistic. Far beneath a lord—a _god,_ far above such mortal things. Because he was free from the desire of it, and had been for many years, Lord Voldemort realized this.

Bellatrix Lestrange, however, did not.

What she had said earlier was correct. The twin bed in her childhood bedroom really was too small for two people. How she and her husband had managed it earlier, Voldemort did not know.

And that made it even more disgusting, didn't it? Two times in the same day—in the same bed—with two different men.

She had a satisfied smile on her face because she had once again gotten what she wanted, the spoiled pureblood princess that she was. Her dark hair was wild and messy again. She was lying on her side, the curve of her hip exaggerated by the position, against the wall the bed was pressed to. The green dress she had worn to France was on the floor somewhere.

Voldemort was already sitting up in the messy bed, regretting his actions. He knew from the look on Bellatrix's face that he had started something that she would not let him conclude easily.

"You used a stiffening charm." Bellatrix accused, slyly, "I can always tell."

"I didn't." Voldemort lied.

Yes, _lied._ There were more side effects of the horcruxes than just red eyes and deathly pale skin. At least he hoped it was a side effect of the horcruxes.

"Don't be embarrassed." Bellatrix giggled, "It's common with men your age—"

"I am _not_ old." Voldemort declared in offense.

Bellatrix rolled her dark eyes. "Of course you aren't, my lord."

The way she said it. 'My lord'. It took on an entirely different connotation now that they were in bed together.

Voldemort was not sure he liked it.

He was not sure he liked _any_ of it. Sex had never been important to him. The desperation for it that served as motivation for most men (and Bellatrix, too, apparently) did not exist within him now—if it ever once did.

When was the last time he had slept with someone? Who was the last person he had slept with? Idis. It had been Idis. And he had only slept with her to gain her trust and learn from her the Dark Magic Gellert Grindelwald himself had taught her.

Voldemort only over slept with people if he wanted something from them. He had slept with Bellatrix to make certain that she sided with him and not her weak and cowardly husband. But now…

Now, Bellatrix would expect special privileges. When he finally overthrew the Ministry of Magic, and took over the world, she would probably want to rule by his side as his queen. He could see it on her grinning face already without even looking into her mind.

Her eyes were closing now, her lips puckering, she was leaning towards him. Oh no. She wanted to kiss him again. She probably wanted to do more than that again.

Voldemort quickly turned away and rose from the bed. "I have to go."

He opened one hand. His wand leaped from nightstand into his grasp. He waved it. His clothes rose from the hardwood floor, littered with the clothing Bellatrix had been packing before she had been interrupted, and flew towards him.

Voldemort put on his trousers first. Then his shirt. Then his robes.

They were all black, like everything else in this manor. Like the maiden name of the woman in the bed behind him. He was surrounded by black like he could never escape the darkness. And _that_ he did not mind.

But the woman of black…he did not want to be ensnared by her. Voldemort knew she was try her best to make him her toy like she did all other men. She did not yet understand how powerful he was even thought she thought she did.

Bellatrix sat up in bed and crossed her arms, pouting. "Where? _Why?"_

Voldemort spun around to face her, aiming his wand right at her thin neck. "Just because I shard my body with you doesn't mean I have to share everything with you! Don't forget that I am your lord and you are only my servant. Never demand information from me and never use that tone of voice with me again. Do you understand me, Bella?"

Bella nodded, chin almost touching the wand at her throat, it was that close.

"Yes, my lord." She said, quietly and a bit ashamed, "I understand." She paused before adding, "…you called me 'Bella'."

Voldemort's red eyes blinked in surprise as he retracted his wand.

Yes, he had called her 'Bella' but did not notice until she told him so. It was a mistake. _Another_ mistake. Her parents and her husband had been calling her 'Bella' all day.

"It's your name." Voldemort dismissed.

"It's my _nick_ name." Bella corrected, "It's what the people who—"

"Love you call you." Voldemort completed for her, "Yes, you told me that. But I don't believe you. Your husband, your parents, they don't really love you."

Bella snorted. "Of course they do."

"Love isn't real." Voldemort countered, "If it were, purebloods wouldn't abandon the families that raised them just because of lust for mudbloods or muggles."

And fathers would not abandon their pregnant wives. And mothers would not die rather than raise their own children.

Bella furrowed her pale forehead. "You don't believe love is real?"

Voldemort short his head of short dark hair. "No, I don't. And why would you? You've been with so many men and never loved any of them."

Sure, Bella was…strange. Crazy, even. But she was not stupid, was she? Slughorn would not have recommended her if she was stupid. Only stupid people believed in the silly fairytale of love.

"Well, there is one man…" Bella smirked up at him from where she sat on the edge of the bed.

Voldemort rolled his red eyes. "You don't love me. You don't even know me. You lust for power and so you lust for me because I have more than you do and anyone else in this world."

Except maybe Albus Dumbledore. _Maybe._ And if so, then not for long. But even if Bella wanted to seduce him she would not be able to.

"If my own parents and husband don't love me, then why do put up with me?" Bella inquired, "Why do _they_ call me 'Bella'?"

"They fear you." Voldemort told her, "So, they treat you well, hoping to avoid your anger. That's not love. That's power."

Bella hmmed, considering his statement. She moved to sit on the edge of the bed. Still naked. It took careful concentration for Voldemort to keep his red eyes trained on her face.

" _You're_ not afraid of me, my lord." Bella responded.

No, the great and terrible Dark Lord Voldemort was not afraid of her…was _he?_

"No, but you should be afraid of me." He returned, "The name suits you because it's childhood nickname and that's what you are. A child, compared to me."

And she really was, too. Nobody ever realized how young one was until one got old. This was her bedroom from when she was a girl, there were still old dolls in it, staring at them from the shelf.

"And that's why you called me 'Bella'?" Bella asked.

"It's just a name." Voldemort reasoned, "It doesn't mean anything."

He broke eye-contact with Bella's dark eyes for just a moment, glancing down. Her long hair draped over her shoulders but covered nothing. When he quickly looked back up again, she was smirking at him.

"Like 'Voldemort' doesn't mean anything?" Bella returned, "Rod told me it means 'flight of death'—or 'from death'. Or something like that. I don't remember."

"I made it up when I was just a teenager." Voldemort admitted, "It's an anagram of the birth name I left behind."

Why was he telling her this? Just so she would stop asking questions. Yes. That was why. And, maybe, it felt good to finally tell someone…

"If you wanted to leave it behind, why did you make it part of your new name?" Bella wondered.

"Why is a phoenix reborn from its own ashes?" Voldemort returned.

It was the fascinating creature that Professor Dumbledore kept in his office, back when he was a transfigurations professor, that had inspired the young Tom Riddle to rearrange his old name into a new one. He had not known what the animal was at first—he had thought it was an object the old man had transfigured into a bird—until he saw it die and then live again. The boy knew then that he never wanted to grow old and die unless he could return like the flame-colored bird.

"I'm named after a star." Bella said, "Like everyone else in my family. Mine's the Amazon Star. Amazon like the female warriors in Greek mythology—"

"I know." Voldemort interrupted. A girl in her twenties was not going to give him, a man twice her age,a history lesson.

The Greek 'gods' had really been wizards and witches, of course. Purebloods. The demigods, halfbloods. They had ruled back then, and they would rule again, the Dark Lord Voldemort as the new god.

Bella smiled. "It's like my parents knew, subconsciously, when they named me what I am destined to be. A warrior."

"'Bella' means war, but it also means 'beautiful'." Voldemort translated.

He could not help but look the young woman up and down again. Sure, she would smirk at him for it, thinking she had him under her control with her body the way she controlled other men, but he did not care. He was barely human anymore, but he could still appreciate nice things.

"Beautiful war..." Bella tested.

"There is going to be one." Voldemort assured, "And I'll be the victor."

* * *

Cygnus and Druella Black, and Rodolphus and Rabastan were waiting in the dim sittingroom when Voldemort came down the spiraling stairs, with forced casualness to ignore the fact that he had just been upstairs with the daughter or wife of two of the men in the room. How does one look a man in the face after sleeping with his wife? After sleeping with his daughter? What does one say?

The Black couple sat in their armchairs, the coffeetable between them holding four teacups, empty and cold. The Lestrange brothers sat in front of the table on the couch. They all turned to stare at the man who had just entered the room from the foyer.

Rabastan spoke first. "I got you the snake."

He gestured at the tank on the hardwood floor beside the coffeetable. Inside its glass was curled the large, legless reptile.

"What are you waiting for?" the snake hissed, "Get me out of here!"

Voldemort pointed his wand at the tank. Its glass shattered and disappeared. The snake slithered free.

"You're letting it go?!" Rabastan yelped, jumping up and away from it in alarm. He now stood on the couch next to his annoyed older brother, the dirty bottoms of his shoes scuffing the cushion.

The snake turned towards him, head and neck rising like a cobra about to strike. The purebloods watched in horror as she opened her mouth, bared her fangs and—

" _Don't."_ Voldemort warned, in parseltongue, from where he stood in the doorway to the foyer behind him.

"But I'm hungry…" the snake complained.

She lowered herself back down onto the hardwood floors and slid over to Voldemort's side. Sighing in relief, Rabastan lowered himself back down into a seated position on the couch.

"I'll take you hunting in a minute." Voldemort promised the snake in parseltongue. He then turned to Rabastan, "Your wife is upstairs. But she isn't going with you, she's staying here."

"Then so am I." Rodolphus declared, standing up. "My father-in-law tells me you'll be conducting Dark Arts training here over the summer. Well, I want to participate. And so does my brother."

Rabastan's green eyes blinked in surprise. Nobody had told him about Dark Arts training and now he was being volunteered for it.

"Fine." Voldemort agreed. He was not going to turn away soldiers for his cause.

Now it was Rodolphus whose green eyes blinked in surprise. He must have expected to be refused.

"Rodolphus can stay with Bella in her room, but I'm not sure where we'll put his brother since you have the guest room," Cygnus told Voldemort, stopping himself before he said the name 'Tom'. "Also, I don't know how many people you're inviting for this training of yours and I don't know where they'll fit either."

"I'm sure you can figure something out, Cygnus." Voldemort dismissed, "You and your wife managed to get the property back in order." He gestured at the couches, that had been covered when he had first arrived, and at the window behind them looking out on the back lawn, which had been overgrown.

"We could use _her_ room." Druella spoke up from where she sat in her armchair across from her husband.

'Her' no doubt referred to the blood-traitor sister of Bellatrix. Whatever her name was, Voldemort did not know.

"Bella won't like that." Cygnus considered, rising from his seat, as well, and looking at his blonde wife.

"We'll tell her To—I mean the Dark Lord told us to do it." Druella reasoned.

Cygnus nodded.

He and his wife started towards the doorway to foyer.

Voldemort stepped aside to let them pass. The snake did not. It hissed and the middle-aged couple cringed as they stepped over it.

Once they were climbing the spiraling steps, Voldemort looked at Rodolphus and Rabastan again. Rodolphus was trying to glare subtly at him but the anger in his narrowed green eyes was not subtle.

"Do you have something to say to me, Rodolphus?" Voldemort asked, almost smirking.

"…no." Rodolphus muttered, glancing down at his expensive French shoes.

Rabastan, seated beside him, tensed, green eyes darting between his brother and the Dark Lord in the doorway. Even he could probably guess the reason Rodolphus was in a bad mood.

"No, _what?"_ Voldemort prodded, now actually smirking.

Rodolphus gritted his teeth down at the floorboards. "No…my lord."

Voldemort chuckled. He turned and left through the doorway of the sittingroom, the snake slithering behind him.

* * *

The cloudy sky was dark above the field of tall weeds and what probably used to be corn before the family that had owned these lands for centuries had stopped maintaining them. It was quiet. There was very small town, more like a village, faint and distance lights glowing like stars through the spaces between the vegetation.

A long snake maneuvered through the stalks, cutting through them a path for the man that walked behind her. He did not need any light to see, his red eyes saw through the darkness as if it was day.

"My name is Nagini, since you probably wouldn't have bothered to ask." The snake hissed.

Voldemort rolled his red eyes, then spoke in parseltongue. "I didn't realize snakes have names. You haven't asked my name."

"All the people you talk to can't seem to agree on what it is." The snake, Nagini, commented.

" _I_ decide what it is." Voldemort stated, then changed the subject, "Do you smell anything?"

"Nothing but mice and rats, cowering in their holes." Nagini replied, "I'm sick of eating mice and rats. You should have let me eat that boy who brought me here."

"It would've been a waste of pure blood." Voldemort dismissed, pushing some weeds out of his way.

"So I should eat you, then?" Nagini snarked, "You have muggle in your blood. I can smell it. Salazar Slytherin would be ashamed—"

She was interrupted Voldemort stamped on her tail. She hissed in pain.

"Yes he would, but I'm going to more than make up for my mother's mistake." He stated, lifting his foot to continue walking through the tall grasses.

Nagini slid forwards, still ahead of him. "So it was your mother, then, the blood-traitor."

Voldemort stepped on her tail again. Harder. He twisted it into her scales. "I may be a halfblood, but I'm still a wizard and you're just an animal, lower even than muggles. I should have left you in that shop to eat your own tail."

"…I'm sorry." Nagini apologized.

The foot released her. She shivered than slithered forward again.

"Since when does a snake from India care about Salazar Slytherin and blood purity?" Voldemort questioned.

"My kind was bred by Salazar himself." Nagini explained. "The strength and size of a Burmese Python, the speed and venom of a Black Mamba."

"Then you're a halfblood, too." Voldemort noted.

Nagini hissed in offense. "Not for the last thousand years…"

Something rustled in the stalks ahead. Both human and snake turned their eyes towards it. The rustling was getting louder, closer, now it was accompanied by thudding. Something was running towards them.

Voldemort drew his wand, pointing it at the source of the sound. "What do you smell? A deer?"

Nagini stuck out her tongue to taste the night air. "A muggle."

A man burst forth through the tall grasses and stalks. His clothing—some kind of uniform—and his hair were disheveled, stray straws stuck to the strands of hair and threads of fabric.

He gasped, coming to a sudden stop upon running into another, mud-caked shoes skidded on the dirt ground. His eyes and mouth were wide in fear.

"Help me!" he panted, "You have to help me! Please! She's after me!"

Voldemort raised an eyebrow, confused for a moment, before figuring out the situation. He glanced at the man, then down at Nagini below him.

"Looks like you've found your meal, Nagini." He told her.

The scared uniformed man did not even notice the giant snake below him until it rose from the dirt ground, hissing, and struck.

Bella scanned the field, wand drawn, a lumos spell lighting her way. Her mad smile had faded and her jog had slowed to a stride as she pushed through the weeds that had conquered the corn.

She had been searching for her muggle prey for almost an hour now. It normally never took her this long. She knew this field well. There was nowhere for the animal she was hunting to hide.

The muggle man had been the police officer investigating the disappearance of the young muggle couple Bella had killed the night Lord Voldemort had arrived at the Black Manor. Apparently the death of the gas station store manager had been ruled a heart attack.

At least according to what Bella had seen in the muggle officer's mind. She had been able to practice legilimency as well as her usual hobby.

A strange sound.

At first, Bella thought it was the wind rustling the tall grasses. Then, she realized her dress and her long hair were not moving. There was no wind on this cloudy night

…so what was it?

Confused, Bella turned her wand, lit like a candle, towards the sound, cautiously starting in its direction.

The strange sound stopped.

Whatever was making the noise had heard her footsteps on the flattened grasses. Bella stopped, too.

"Come out, Bella, I know it's you."

Bella's dark, dilated eyes blinked in surprise. She knew that voice. It was the voice of her lord. The man she had finally, seduced into her bed after so long (it had been three days—which actually was a long time considering her ease with that sort of thing).

What was he doing out here?

Bella stepped forward, pushing through the tall grasses until she found the Dark Lord Voldemort in a clearing of flattened cornstalks and weeds. She held up her glowing wand to better see his pale face.

His red eyes squinted at the light. "Get that out of my face."

Bella lowered her wand. Now the light illuminated a weird, lumpy looking log on the ground—no, it was not a log. Logs did not move.

"My lord…" Bella said, pointing at the lumpy moving thing, "What is that?"

"That's my pet snake." Lord Voldemort informed, "She just ate."

The snake hissed, turning towards him. Her neck was the same size as it had been in the tank back at the Lestrange Shop, but her body was engorged with a human-shaped lump.

Now Bella realized where her muggle prey had disappeared to. She tensed in mild disgust.

"I wasn't finished with that." she sniffed, eyeing the bloated snake warily.

The snake turned to her and eyed her right back. She hissed again.

Lord Voldemort replied to the snake in parseltongue, looking down at her and away from Bella.

Bella crossed her arms, annoyed that the two were having a conversation that she could not understand and at being ignored in favor of an animal.

 _Maybe that was why the old man had to use a stiffening charm._ Bella thought to herself. _Maybe he preferred snakes to human women…_

Red eyes gave Bella a warning look. Bella grimaced. She had forgotten Lord Voldemort was a legilimens.

"What complaints and doubts about me did your husband have to say this time?" he asked her.

"He didn't say anything." Bella shrugged, "He's not talking to me at the moment." She smirked, finding her husband's silence funny. Rod would give up ignoring her soon enough. He always did.

"He wants to join my army." Voldemort informed her, "Learn to fight with the students this summer."

Bella laughed. "He probably wants to get strong enough to duel you again."

Voldemort chuckled, too. "Well, let's hope he gets good enough to actually be useful."

Bella's smile widened. She was glad her lord was appreciating her humor. She started through the clearing towards him.

It was a nice night, a little chilly but not enough to goosebump. Clouds, darkness and the tall cornstalks would provide cover. Who cared if the flattened-grass and dirt ground was uncomfortable? There were spells for that. Who cared if there was a giant, lumpy snake watching? It was just an animal—

Voldemort stopped chuckling and gave Bella another warning look with all-knowing red eyes. Damn legilimency.

"No." he said.

"Well, we can go back inside—" Bella tried again.

"No." Lord Voldemort repeated.

Bella sighed, slouching. "Why not? Don't tell me you suddenly care that I'm married."

"I gave you what you wanted, Bella." Voldemort replied, "Don't ask me for too much. You…haven't earned it."

Bella's black hole eyes lit up like suns. So there was hope!

"What do I have to do, my lord?" She asked, enthusiastically, perking up from the slouch.

Voldemort paused, like he was trying to figure out the answer to her question as much as she was.

Finally he said, "Master Legilimency and Occlumency. I want you to be able to look into others' minds with ease and I _don't_ want to see any more of your twisted hypotheses about me."

Bella grimaced in slight embarrassment. Then she nodded her head, long hair nodding with it. "I'll do it, my lord."

* * *

The smell of food woke Bellatrix Lestrange up the next morning. She had slept alone in her childhood bedroom that night.

While she was out chasing her prey (and losing it to that blasted snake) her father Cygnus Black had cast spells to heal the burned walls of the bloodtraitor's room and her mother Druella Black had magicked up several bunkbeds for the students that would arrive soon to spend the summer. Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange had bickered like children over who would get the top bunk…until they realized there was more than one top bunk and had chosen opposite beds.

Now, all four sat around the long mahogany table in the diningroom when Bella trudged into the dimly-lit room. Its curtains were drawn, letting none of the morning light, further obscured by the gray clouds, in.

Bella squinted her dark eyes in the dark room.

Her parents, husband and brother-in-law looked up from their breakfast at her. Their conversation silenced.

"Good morning, Bella." Three of them greeted, almost in unison. (Rod was still not talking to her, apparently, green eyes glaring.)

Bella sniffed.

…no burning smell.

Eyes adjusted she scanned the table. The toast was golden brown, the bacon was crisp but not black, the eggs were the perfect yellow suns with white rays.

She turned to Bas, "You cooked?"

Bas nodded his brown-haired head, mouth full of eggs.

Bella tensed. She had to practice Legilimency but she had to do it silently and wandlessly. She concentrated…

_Bella noticed my cooking! Looks like she hasn't forgotten me after all. She didn't spend the night with Rod, or Lord Whatever His Name Is. This is my chance to get with her again, I don't care what Rod says. He lets everyone else sleep with her, why not me?_

Bella blinked, returning from Bas' mind to the diningroom she stood in the doorway of.

She never even liked poor Bassy. She only ever slept with him to piss Rod off.

"Are you going to sit down, Bella?" Her mother asked, gesturing to the empty seat at the head of the table.

Bella looked at Druella. Blue eyes and a mess of blonde and gray hair. She concentrated…

_Bella was out in that field all night again. She thinks her father and I don't know what she does, but we do. First, killing House Elves and now killing muggles. What's wrong with her? I'm better than a bug, but that doesn't mean I have to step on it. I taught her to be proud of her pure blood, that's all, not to be a killer. She scares me, my own daughter. Why can't she just be my little girl again?_

Bella blinked again, then walked around the table, past her smiling mother, to sit down in her usual seat in from of the family portraits. Her own portrait eyed her with curiosity.

Druella and Cygnus sat on her left, Rodolphus and Rabastan sat on her right. It was awkwardly silent now. Any chewing, or sipping of tea, seemed to echo in the dim diningroom.

"Have some breakfast." Cygnus invited, motioning to the serving plates of toast, eggs and bacon in the middle of the long diningtable.

The salt-and-pepper haired man looked at his daughter. Bella looked back at him. She concentrated…

_Where did I go wrong? I thought I raised my girls better than this, and then I get one bloodtraitor and one who sleeps with half the Sacred Twenty-Eight! It's one thing to have an affair, Merlin knows I had some in my day, but to carry on with your husband and whole family downstairs? She needs to at least have the decency of being discrete. I'd put a stop to this myself…if Bella wasn't so damn terrifying with her magic and her temper. Where did I go wrong? I raised a monster._

Bella blinked at her smiling father, then raised her wand. An empty plate appeared before her, and food sailed from the serving plates onto hers. She set down her wand and picked up her fork.

Rod's green glare had followed her from the doorway to her seat. He was not even eating, just glaring. Bella eyed him. She concentrated…

_How can Bella walk in here like nothing's wrong? I never expected her to be faithful, but I thought she would at least be honest. If she wants to sleep with that old man, fine, I don't care, but she didn't have to sneak around about it. From now on, I'm not getting into any more duels over Bellatrix, it's her I'm angry with, not the other men, and it hasn't worked out well for me in the past anyway—except with Bas. I'll fight him if he tries to sleep with my wife again._

Bella blinked. Rod looked away from her, down at his partially-eaten plate of food. Bella looked down at her own full plate of food.

Though she had not eaten dinner the night before, she was suddenly not hungry. They all had smiles on their faces (except Rod). They all acted so polite (except Rod), so friendly (except Rod)…

Lord Voldemort was right.

Her parents and husband did not love her. They feared her. If love was real, it was not what her family felt for her.

The Dark Lord was right. He was always right.

…and he was right there. In the doorway.

Bella looked up.

So did the other four at the table. And of course they smiled at him, politely, because they were afraid. They thought he would not know. But he knew. And now, Bella knew, too.

Bella rose from her seat and sidestepped away from it. "My lord, please take my place at the table. Have something to eat."

Lord Voldemort shook his head in refusal.

Did he _ever_ eat? Bella had never seen him eat. Not during the four days he had been here.

Bas was scanning the floor nervously. He must have expected the long snake to slither into the diningroom after her new owner and try to eat him again. Luckily for him, it did not.

"I have a job for you today, Bella." Lord Voldemort informer her, "I want you to recruit Professor Slughorn to teach over the summer."

Bella furrowed her brow, "I thought you didn't trust him, my lord, you made him leave the party."

"Haven't you learned the skill necessary to know if he's trustworthy?" Voldemort responded.

He meant Legilimency, Bella knew. Why he did not do it himself on Slughorn the day of the party, or did not do it now, Bella did not know. Now it was a test for her.

Bella nodded, "I do."

And just because, even though she knew she would fail, she concentrated…

Smoke. Black smoke. All Bella could ever see in the great Dark Lord Voldemort's mind was black smoke.

…wait! What was that? A thought?

_Nice try, Bella._

Damn it.

* * *

The Three Broomsticks was as dim and dingy as usual (though not to the level of the Hog's Head) but thankfully not filled with annoyingly rowdy Hogwarts students on a trip to Hogsmeade. The creaky wooden inn and pub was quiet.

There Professor Horace Slughorn was where Bella knew she would find him. At the bar, attempting to flirt with the owner, Madame Rosmerta, who was pouring him a drink from behind the bar and laughing along.

Bella passed by the mostly-empty wooden tables, getting a few looks from the few men who happened to be in the drinking establishment in the middle of the day (maybe her dress was a little short, but it was nearly summer and getting warm), on her way over to her former professor.

The old, round man did not notice her until Madame Rosmerta did. She looked at Bella, then looked at Slughorn.

"Ooh, Horace, looks like you've got a pretty visitor." Madame Rosmerta chuckled, "A little old to be one of your students, though."

Slughorn blinked at Rosmerta, then spun around in his barstool to face Bellatrix Lestrange, in surprise. "Miss Black, what are you doing here?"

Miss Black? He was talking to her like she was still a student. Had he really forgotten she was married?

Bella glanced at the empty mug in his hand…and the other empty mugs sitting on the bar beside him. Bella looked up from them, then at the owner. Madame Rosmerta smirked from behind the bar, then turned and walked out from behind the bar, to join the men at a table Bella had passed a few seconds earlier.

"It's the middle of the day, what are you doing here, Professor?" Bella asked. Then, she concentrated…

Smoke. Gray smoke. Like the color of his hair.

He was using Occlumency? Even when he was drunk?

That explained why Lord Voldemort did not look into his mind at the pureblood party, but not why he neglected to warn her about it. Slughorn was probably the one who had taught the skill to him, as well as Legillemency, Bella realized.

Well, at least Slughorn was drunk. Maybe Bella could get some information from him that way...

"It's the last week of school." Slughorn shrugged, "Why not celebrate?"

More like it was the last chance to woo Madame Rosmerta before failing and trying again next year (and running up a huge tab from purchasing drinks in the process).

Slughorn attempted to sip from his already empty mug. When he realized it was empty, he set it down on the bar beside him, next to the other empty mugs. He squinted through the dim lighting at his former student.

All of a sudden he was more somber and serious.

"But you're not celebrating, Mrs. Lestrange." He continued, remembering her new(ish) last name, "Does Tom know you're here?"

"The Dark Lord hates that name." Bella hissed.

Slughorn grimaced, "You mustn't forget where we are. Hogwarts is less than a mile away, Dumbledore has ears everywhere. Both you and Tom are banned from the school grounds. You, after the unfortunate incident with your younger sister, Andromeda. Tom…well, I'm not sure why, actually, Albus just never trusted him."

"These aren't the school grounds and his name isn't 'Tom'." Bella insisted, folding her arms, "Or are you one of Dumbledore's 'ears'?"

Slughorn shook his gray-hair head. "I'm not, despite what T—you know who—might think."

"He doesn't really think you're a spy." Bella said, "If he did, he wouldn't have sent me here to recruit you for the training he's conducting this summer."

"Training?" Slughorn sputtered, taken aback. "Of who? Of _what?"_

"I can't tell you any more details unless you agree to help." Bella replied.

She glanced behind her in the wide room of wooden tables, booths, and pillars. Madame Rosmerta was still sitting with the two men at the only occupied table. The three laughed. They were not listening.

Slughorn sighed, "Whatever it is, Mrs., I simply cannot be involved—"

"Why not?" Bella snapped.

"You know me, Mrs. Lestrange, I prefer the periphery of things." Slughorn shrugged.

"You're afraid." Bella accused.

But of what? Of getting caught helping the Dark Lord and losing the respect of the wizarding community? Or of The Dark Lord actually succeeding? Or both?

It was probably both, Bella guessed. If Slughorn did not doubt the Dark Lord would succeed, he would be happily join the winning team.

"What if I am?" Slughorn accepted.

"Then why recommend me to the Dark Lord?" Bella wondered. She wished she could look into Slughorn's mind like she had her family at breakfast, and see what her former teacher truly thought of her.

"I was naïve." Slughorn admitted, "I didn't realize what he had in mind until the party at your father's house, when Abraxas asked him to explain his plan. I thought he just wanted to teach the Dark Arts, which in of itself, isn't inherently wrong."

Bella hmmed. "So, if you'd known, would you still have given him my name?"

Slughorn paused, considering her question. He leaned his elbow on the bar beside him.

"You weren't alive during the last war." He said, finally, "You didn't see the devastation it caused to the entirety of Europe. That wasn't just the fault of the muggles, it was Grindelwald. He thought that if he could destabilize muggles with a World War then it would be easier for him to enslave them. Well, he failed spectacularly and ended up getting a lot good wizards—on both sides—killed."

"The Dark Lord isn't going to do that." Bella dismissed.

"He doesn't know _what_ he's doing!" Slughorn exclaimed, too loudly.

The conversation at the sole occupied table in the wide room of empty wooden tables silenced. Madame Rosmerta and the two men looked up, over at the bar, in confusion.

Professor Slughorn coughed in embarrassment. Bella glared at them. The three looked away, back at each other, continuing their conversation.

"What I mean, Mrs. Lestrange, is that war is ugly." Slughorn rephrased, "Tom—"

"The Dark Lord!" Bella corrected.

"Whatever his name is now, he was Tom during the war." Slughorn said, "And he was just a boy at Hogwarts, far away from it all and too young to truly understand it. If he had experienced war the way my generation did, he wouldn't be so eager to start one and neither would you."

Bella took a breath, then declared, matter-of-factly, "…You have to accept that some things are inevitable, Professor Slughorn."

"Well, then." Slughorn replied, he was not sure how else to respond to her statement, "Is there anything else I can help you with, Mrs. Lestrange?"

"Actually…yes." Bella stated. "You know Abraxas Malfoy, right?"

Slughorn nodded. "Yes. Why?" He narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

Bella paused, trying to think of the best way to ask the question. She failed at recruiting Slughorn as a teacher during the summer and she failed at using Legilimency to discover his loyalties, so she had to bring back _something_ useful for her lord. Information on Abraxas Malfoy would be just that.

"Why did he invite you to the party two days ago?" Bella asked, "You're not from one of the old families."

"It's not so that I would report to Dumbledore what I saw." Slughorn reiterated, "And, by the way, I still haven't told him about any of this and don't intend to."

Bella nodded. "Then why?"

"Well, Abraxas just wanted to talk to me." Slughorn recounted, "He asked for advice about dealing with a problem he's having with the Goblins at Gringotts. It's not anything you'd be interested in—"

"Tell me." Bella demanded.

"Fine." Slughorn relented, "Abraxas is trying to convince the goblins to raise interest rates on loans. The goblins are resisting this because it would limit who could afford to borrow money, cutting into their profits. Abraxas wanted me to get my connections in the Ministry to scare the goblins with having Gringotts taken out of their hands again, so that they wouldn't know the threat was coming from Abraxas."

Bella felt herself beginning to yawn. She quickly covered her mouth with one hand.

"Nevermind." She groaned.

Slughorn chuckled. "I thought it might bore you."

Bella grimaced. She was a failure. She had gotten nothing useful from Professor Slughorn. She dreaded returning home to face the disappointment (and possible wrath) of the Dark Lord.

But she had to.

"Thank you for your time, professor." She said, bitterly, before raising her wand and apparating away.

* * *

When Bella pushed open the front door to the Black Manor, she heard voices in the sittingroom. She hurried through the foyer and down the hall to investigate.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had taken her father's armchair for his own. Seated on across from him in her mother's armchair was the Russian—what was his name again? Dolohov. Antonin Dolohov. And seated on the couch behind the coffeetable were Tye Nott and his much younger wife Theodora.

Bald Tye Nott almost spilled the teacup in his hand when he saw Bella. She concentrated…

_Bellatrix?! What is she doing here? Shouldn't she be with her husband in France? Hmm, it's been so long since I've seen her. She looks good for a few years away from thirty. I wonder if she's still as easy as she used to be now that she's married. She's the only woman that didn't find me creepy—except for my wife. How could I forget about her?_

Bella blinked then scowled.

Easy? Her? No. _Men_ were easy. She could always have whichever one she wanted, or all of them.

…except for the Dark Lord. He was different. Difficult. The only man who ever made her earn it. And she still needed to earn it with her mastery of legilimency.

Brunette Theodora Nott raised a brown eyebrow at her husband, then at Bella. Bella looked back at her. She concentrated…

_Who is this woman? Why is my husband looking at her like that? He told me I was the only woman he ever found beautiful! That he had waited his whole life, rejecting all other women, to be with me!_

Bella snickered to herself. Oh, the poor, stupid little girl.

The conversation in the dimly-lit room ceased upon Bella's entry. It was the second time that day. Everyone was looking at her.

"Welcome back, Bella." Lord Voldemort greeted from the armchair, "Allow me to introduce you to my friend, Tye Nott." He gestured at the middle-aged man on the couch next to the young woman, then turned to him, "Tye, this is Bellatrix Lestrange."

Bella looked at her lord, then at his 'friend'. She smirked. "We've met, my lord."

Tye Nott shifted his gaze away from hers. He was not smiling and in fact looking very nervous as his wife scowled at him.

Lord Voldemort knew that the two already knew each other, of course. He had seen Bella's memories.

Dolohov was laughing at Nott's uncomfortable reaction from the other armchair. He did not have a teacup in his hand, instead he had a bottle in his hand that with Russian lettering on the label.

Bella turned to him. She concentrated….

And Dolohov was thinking in Russian. She could not understand him.

"What was Professor Slughorn's answer?" Lord Voldemort asked. He had a teacup, too, and it looked like he had actually drank some of the liquid in it.

Bella grimaced, "…he said no, my lord." She stared down at her black shoes in shame.

"So you weren't able to convince him." Voldemort sniffed, "I assumed as much. So I contacted a Durmstrang professor to come for the summer."

He assumed Professor Slughorn would say no? Or he assumed Bella would fail? Or both? Bella could not tell.

Either way, the Dark Lord had set her up for failure. He had not told her that Slughorn knew Occlumency.

Dolohov was still snickering in the other armchair, this time at Bella rather than Nott. Bella turned a dark-eyed glare towards him. He took a sip from his bottle, still smirking.

The alcohol splashed in his face.

Now it was Bella snickering and smirking. She had not even needed to wave the wand in her hand.

Both Tye Nott and his wife Theodora held back chuckles. Even Lord Voldemort smiled, just a little.

Dolohov set the bottle down on the coffee table and flicked his wand. Liquid on his face pooled around his scraggly dark stubble then shot back into the bottle.

Once his face was dry, Dolohov was able to open his eyes and glare at Bella. She shrugged innocently.

"My lord, I got some information about Abraxas Malfoy." Bella stated, turning towards the man sitting across from Dolohov, "So I didn't come back completely empty handed."

Lord Voldemort raised a dark eyebrow at her in mild interest, "What is it?"

"Well," Bella began, glancing upwards at the dark ceiling, trying to remember, "It had something to do with goblins and raising interest rates at Gringotts…oh right! Malfoy wants to raise interest rates on loans—"

"Don't waste my time, Bella." Voldemort interrupted, "That isn't useful information."

"Actually it is."

Bella heard the voice in the doorway behind her, instantly recognizing it. It was her husband, Rodolphus. She glanced back at him, then stepped to the side so that he could enter the dimly-lit sitting room.

"How so?" Bella tested. She wondered if Rod would even respond to her. He had not said a word to her all day, or all the night before, since he had seen her with the Dark Lord.

Rod's green eyes eyed her as he walked into the room, but they turned to meet Lord Voldemort's red ones, "Because lowering interest rates lowers inflation which in turn increases consumer spending. It's simple business. It's also a political move."

"A political move?" Voldemort repeated.

"The economy's been bad for a while." Rod explained.

He looked at the Notts on the couch and Dolohov in the other armchair. They nodded in agreement.

Bella just gazed at the back of Rod's brown-haired head in confusion. The economy was bad? Since when? She had not noticed. Then again, she was rich…

Lord Voldemort looked equally confused. "Has it? I've been out of the country until four days ago."

"It has." Rod confirmed, "And if Abraxas Malfoy can change that he'll get public support, which the old pureblood families haven't had in years. With that he could run for Minister of Magic."

Lord Voldemort's pale brow furrowed in consideration.

"Malfoy did say he had ousted a minister before..." Bella recalled the conversation in the diningroom when Abraxas Malfoy had declared he would support Lord Voldemort. "But not that he wanted to _be_ one."

"And that ambition is incompatible with my plans if he truly supports me." Voldemort added.

"Then why would he agree to help you?" Tye Nott wondered from the couch. He and his wife had been at the party. They had witnessed Abraxas seemingly endorse Lord Voldemort as the new Dark Lord.

"Because he needs an enemy." Voldemort said, "It was Albus Dumbledore's defeat of Gellert Grindelwald that got him the position of Head Master at Hogwarts. It would have gotten him the position of Minister of Magic, had he chosen to accept it. Malfoy must think that if I become the next Grindelwald and start another war, then he can become the next Dumbledore by stopping me."

"But he could never defeat you, my lord!" Bella exclaimed, "No one can!"

The Notts raised their eyebrows at her loud and dramatic outburst. Dolohov was laughing again. Rod was glaring again.

"He doesn't realize the extent of my power." Voldemort reasoned, "And with his pretend support of me he has insight into my activities for when he turns on me." He rose from the armchair, turning towards the doorway that Bella and Rod stood in front of. "Thank you, Bella, that was useful information."

"Bella?" Rod rolled his green eyes, "I was the one who interpreted it."

"So you're not useless after all." Voldemort commented.

Rod sighed, accepting the backhanded compliment.

Bella smiled in pride. She must have earned _something_ from her lord with the information. A kiss at least.

His red eyes were giving her that knowing look again. She had forgotten to use Occlumency again. Another failure.

Bella's skin turned pink. But one more time she concentrated...

* * *

_Damn! He's looking like that at me again! He's reading my mind! I'm supposed to be using Occlumency! I can't keep failing him..._

Suddenly, troubled and murky water, as black and wild as Bella's hair, rushed like opened flood gates to block Voldemort's gaze into her mind.

Bella had done it. She had finally succeeded. And it was the fear of failing him that had accomplished that.

Bella could not see into Voldemort's mind, but he was proud.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's easy to forget this all takes place in the 1970s. To remind myself and all of this I added Monetarism, which is what Margaret Thatcher was doing in the UK during this time period and so what Abraxas Malfoy is doing.


	9. Supremacy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh, this took forever. Sorry. At least it's long. Thanks to those who reviewed!
> 
> The ages for Regulus and Sirius may be a little younger than they would be in canon 1977. But the story does not really work in the long run otherwise.

It was midmorning when Regulus Arcturus Black exited the fireplace, finding himself in the dimly-lit library of the Black Manor. He recognized the bookshelf-walls immediately, he had been to this house on many family visits before. But this time he was not here for the Christmas party.

He was here to learn the Dark Arts.

His older cousin Bellatrix was waiting for him in the dark. She greeted him with a wide smile, "Reggie! You've gotten so tall, you're growing into a man."

It was true, Regulus noticed then. He was finally taller than her, having had a growth spurt during the just-completed spring semester at Hogwarts.

Bella then pulled Regulus into a crushing embrace that almost knocked him over.

She had always been affectionate with him, but now that he was almost fifteen, he was suddenly tense in his female cousin's arms. He tried his best not to notice that her…chest was bumping against him through the nightgown she should not have been greeting company in.

Bella had always been the cool, grown up cousin and Regulus the eager little boy that wanted to play with the big kids. Now he was taller than she was and realizing that the ten years difference in age was not so much.

Bella released Regulus when she saw the green flash of flames behind him. Regulus did not have to look back to know that his older brother Sirius was trudging into the room through the fireplace. Soon, his brother was standing beside him.

"I didn't think you'd be here, Gryffindor." Bella sniffed, eyeing him.

Sirius glared right back at her. He did not have the dark eyes that most in the Black Family, including his younger brother Regulus, did. His were gray. _He_ was different.

Regulus had always felt bad for his older brother who never fit in with the family. But at the same time he never minded that his brother's defiance made him the favorite son—and the favorite cousin of Bella.

"My mother forced me." Sirius grumbled, sourly as he always was, "But what are _you_ doing here, Bellatrix? Aren't you a little old for summer school?"

Bella rolled her eyes, "It isn't 'school', it's Dark Arts training."

"It's a waste of time, that's what this is." Sirius muttered, folding his arms across his chest. He was wearing a red t-shirt, a blatant display of his Hogwarts House and reluctance to be at the Black Manor.

Regulus was wearing black, just like Bella was. A good Black Family son. He had to make the family proud as well as make up for his brother bringing the family shame.

"Well, _I'm_ excited to be here." he said, "Not just cause we get to learn the Dark Arts, but also cause we get to make history—"

Sirius snorted at that. "You're not going to make anything but fools of yourselves. There were Pureblood Supremacy and Dark Arts groups before. Where are they now? Snogging the Dementors in Azkaban."

Bella shook her head. "They didn't have the Dark Lord Voldemort."

"I don't remember there being an election." Sirius snarked, hands in his jeans pockets, "Is that a title he earned or is he just calling himself that?"

"Is he here, the new Dark Lord?" Regulus inquired, eagerly. "Have you met him, Bella?

Bella smirked at that. "Yes. He's here. And yes. I've met him."

"Sounds like she's done more than just meet him." Sirius muttered, under his breath.

Regulus' eyes winded and he elbowed his older brother. _How could Sirius be so rude?_ He knew Bella had a quick temper and a quicker wand.

"Will the new Dark Lord be teaching?" Regulus asked, quickly, to distract from his brother's comment.

"No." Bella answered, "He brought a professor from Durmstrang to teach you boys. So far I'm the Dark Lord's only student." There was pride in her smile now.

Sirius rolled his gray eyes. "Oh, she thinks she's special."

"She _is_ special." Regulus snapped at him, "She's always been good at magic, especially fighting. She could beat us both in a duel, two on one, I bet."

"Oh, stop worshipping her, Reg." Sirius groaned, "You always have but you're too old for that now. It's getting creepy."

"You jealous, Gryffindor?" Bella tested. She then turned to Regulus, "He's jealous, isn't he, Reggie? Jealous that you're my favorite little cousin and he's not." She reached forward to pat Regulus on the cheek.

He felt his face flush. He could not look his cousin in the eye, instead staring down at his sneakers. He felt her fingers trace down his skin as they fell.

Crack.

All three people jolted at the noise, turning towards it source. A figure had apparated into the dark room. But it was not a human.

Kreacher the House Elf stood in front of the bookshelf, a suitcase in each hand. One was small, the other was almost bigger than he was. He faced Regulus.

"Kreacher brought Master Regulus his belongings." He informed, setting down the large suitcase in demonstration, then turning to Sirius, "Here are yours." He dropped the small one onto the hardwood floor, letting it clatter.

Sirius glanced at the House Elf and at the smaller suitcase but did not move or say anything.

"Thanks, Kreacher." Regulus smiled at the elf. He leaned forward and down to pick up his suitcase.

Kreacher nodded at him, then at Bella, ignoring Sirius. He then disapparated away.

"Let's take those upstairs to where you boys'll be staying." Bella said, gesturing at the suitcases.

* * *

Regulus remembered this bedroom.

It had once belonged to his other cousin, Andromeda. The family did not mention her anymore. Even before she had been disowned for marrying a muggleborn, Regulus had never been close to her. She had stayed upstairs in this very bedroom, avoiding the other purebloods—except for Sirius, he was the only one she would talk to.

Regulus could tell from the disappointed look on his older brother's face that he wished Andromeda were here, now.

The bedroom was now lined with rows of bunkbeds. The rows stood across the room from each other and totaled ten beds made up with black sheets.

As soon as Bella led Regulus and Sirius into the room, two green-eyed faces peered down from the tops of the two closest bunkbeds to the door.

Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange.

"You mean we have to share with _kids?"_ Rabastan complained, glancing at Regulus and Sirius, and then turning to his older brother Rodolphus on the top bunk to his.

"Who'd you think the other beds were for?" Rodolphus replied. He did not acknowledge his wife, Bella, who stood in the doorway, also not acknowledging him.

_Weird,_ Regulus thought. _Why were the married couple sleeping separately and not even looking at each other?_

"Take whatever bed you want, Reggie." Bella invited, motioning to the rows of bunkbeds.

"Thanks." Reggie nodded at her.

He then lugged his large suitcase into the bedroom, over to the bunkbed across from the ones the Lestrange brothers had chosen. He picked the bottom bunk, sitting down on it and leaving the top for his older brother.

Sirius followed him, small suitcase slung over his shoulder until he tossed it up onto the bunk above his younger brother's, climbing up onto the raised bed after it.

Bella waited until the boys were settled before turning and exiting the room.

The two sets of brothers had watched her go and then heard her descend the stairs.

"Sharing a room with a bunch of Slytherins, this is going to be the worst summer ever." Sirius groaned, sitting on the edge of the top bunk, legs dangling over.

Regulus slid so as to avoid being kicked in the face from where he sat on the lower bunk.

Rabastan turned to Rodolphus. "I don't like this, either, sharing a room with a bunch of kids like we're in Hogwarts again. We should go back to the London house."

"You go if you want, Bas." Rodolphus dismissed, flopping back onto the small mattress behind him, "But I'm not leaving my wife in a house with hormonal teenage boys." His green eyes looked directly at Regulus.

Regulus narrowed his eyes upwards towards Rodolphus, "She's my cousin."

"Your parents are cousins." Rodolphus reminded, closing his green eyes and folding his arms behind his head on the black-cased pillow.

"He has a point, Reg." Sirius agreed,

Regulus just grimaced.

* * *

Bella was back in the dimly-lit library in time to greet her other younger cousin, Evan Rosier, as he exited the fireplace, a bag hanging loosely from one shoulder.

The blue-eyed boy had the same golden blond hair as his father Everett, his aunts Druella and Lucerna, and his cousin Narcissa. It was getting long, he would have almost looked like a Malfoy if it was more silvery and less shaggy.

"Hey." He greeted, flipping the hair out of his face like he was in a boy band.

Oh, so he was too cool to rush up to his older cousin like he used to now that he was a teenager?

Bella snorted. "You need a haircut, Evan. And _what_ are you wearing?"

She eyed his brown pants disdainfully. They were bellbottoms.

"It's the fashion." Evan shrugged.

"The _muggle_ fashion." Bella corrected. She waved her wand. The legs of his brown pants shrunk. "That's better."

Evan looked down at the new shape of his trousers. They constricted his ankles uncomfortably, now, and one pantsleg was shorter than the other

"You ruined them." Evan complained.

Bella just laughed at him. Yeah, the trousers looked terrible, now, she had always been bad at fabric-related spells, but that was what Evan deserved for dressing like a muggle.

The green flames flashed in the fireplace behind Evan, briefly brightening the dim library. Both Evan and Bella turned towards the flash.

A short and chubby ruddy-haired girl, and a tall and skinny dusky-haired boy appeared. The siblings scanned the dark room, glancing at the looming shelves of books, then at Evan, then at Bella, before turning to each other.

"This place is creepy." The boy commented in appreciation rather than disgust.

"Cool." The girl agreed.

Bella furrowed her pale forehead at the girl. "Who are you?"

"Alecto Carrow." The girl introduced herself, "I thought my father Ares Carrow told you that brother Amycus and I were coming."

"Oh. You're a girl." Bella realized. She had assumed 'Alecto' was a boy's name. "Well, nice to meet you, Alecto, I hope you don't mind sharing a room with the boys."

Alecto shrugged, "I've shared a room with my brother my whole life." Her voice was gruff, more like a teenage boy's than a teenage girl's.

Bella hmmed. She had liked being the only young woman around. Now here was this tough-looking girl who was 'one of the boys'. Well, at least Bella would still be the pretty one…

The fireplace flashed green again and Narcissa, Bella's blonde and blue eyed-beautiful younger sister stepped out it. Her dress, white and flowing as if it was her wedding, was bright in the dimly-lit room of books.

All three teenagers turned to stare at the pretty twenty-two year old. Bella looked, too, blinking in surprise and the narrowing her eyes (her youngest sister was the only one prettier than her and she had always resented that).

"Cissy, what are you doing here?" Bella asked.

Narcissa, like their mother, had always preferred potions to wand magic and traditionally feminine pursuits to fighting. She smiled at her older sister.

"Hi, Bella, I thought I'd stay here for the summer since there's not much to do when my husband isn't home." She explained.

Bella snickered at that, "If you can't have fun all by yourself then have friends over. That's what I do when my husband's away."

Narcissa pursed her pink lips. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Where's your husband gone off to?" Bella wondered.

Narcissa furrowed her brow at that. "You don't know? He's coming here to participate in the training."

Bella's eyes widened. Lucius Malfoy was coming _here?_ To the Black Manor where the Dark Lord was?

"Take the kids up to the bloodtraitor's old bedroom, Cissy." Bella instructed her sister, "I have something I have to do."

Before Narcissa could even respond, Bella turned from her and the three teenagers in the dark library, and hurried out of the room.

* * *

Bella had run up the spiraling stairs to the second floor where she stopped in front of the door to the guestroom that had become the bedroom of the Dark Lord Voldemort. In her haste, Bella pushed open the door without knocking.

"My lord, I have something to tell—" she called, stopping when she realized she could barely see inside.

The hallway behind her was dimly-lit, like the rest of the house, but this room was completely dark. The curtains on both its windows were drawn and no lamps or candles were lit.

Standing in the doorway, Bella squinted her eyes, attempting to see the man she was looking for.

"This may be your house, Bella, but this is _my_ room. Knock first."

His voice.

Bella turned towards its source.

Now she could see sitting alone on the bed in the dark—no, not alone. His new pet snake (whose name Bella did not remember) was curled on the bed beside him, returned to its original size though it had only been a day since it had eaten the muggle.

The snake hissed something. Lord Voldemort replied in parseltongue. He was still looking at the snake next to him, rather than at the woman several feet away.

Bella folded her arms, leaning against the side of the doorway. Why was he talking to the snake and not her? She was standing right there!

"Sorry, my lord." Bella apologized, not as sincerely as she should have, "Did I interrupt you playing with your snake?"

Lord Voldemort finally turned to face Bella, raising a dark eyebrow. He did not dignify her double entendre with a response.

"What do you have to tell me?" he asked instead.

"Lucius Malfoy wants to participate in the Dark Arts training." Bella informed from the doorway, "I think his father sent him to spy on us."

"Good." Voldemort said.

"Good?" Bella repeated in confusion.

"Lucius may unwittingly give us insight into Abraxas' plans." Voldemort explained.

"Oh." Bella nodded, understanding.

She paused, lingering in the doorway. She wanted to be invited in. But her lord and that annoying snake were just staring at her.

"Is there anything else?" Voldemort asked.

"Why are you up here alone when everyone is arriving for the training?" Bella questioned, "And why aren't _you_ teaching?"

It was not like he was doing anything else, after all. He was just sitting in the dark talking to the snake.

"I no longer have the patience for teenagers." Voldemort admitted, "Or for large groups. But I am teaching, or are you not my student?"

Bella smiled. She _was_ special. The Dark Lord Voldemort's only student.

* * *

The teenagers and young adults lined up on the grass of the Black Manor's back lawn. The two older men who had instructed them to come outside sat on the benches in the wooden gazebo, watching from afar.

Regulus knew the bald one was Tye Nott, since he was, for some unsettling reason, married to a girl who had graduated from Hogwarts the year Regulus had started. Who the scruffy, brown-haired one with the accent was, Regulus had no idea.

Sirius stood at the edge of the line of students, his younger brother Regulus beside him. Regulus recognized _almost_ everyone else in line.

On his other side was Alvin Avery, beside him was Mordred Mulciber, beside him Evan Rosier, and beside him Amycus and Alecto Carrow (they had always creeped Regulus out). They all went to Hogwarts together.

Then, there were the grown-ups. The brown-haired Lestrange brothers from earlier, and Lucius Malfoy who was not dressed appropriately for the Dark Arts as he was wearing white robes while everyone else wore at least some black (except for Sirius in the red shirt).

But finally, there was a strange boy at the other end of the line who Regulus did not recognize. The boy was able to grow some amount of facial hair, resulting in a sparse dark goatee at the end of his small chin.

He looked as uncomfortable and out of place as Sirius did, not chatting with the others in line, and instead staring impatiently at the manor house at the top of the hill in front of them. Sirius was staring down at the dirt he was kicking in boredom next to Regulus.

"So, where's your hot cousin, Reg?" Mordred asked, hazel eyes scanning the property before turning to Regulus.

Regulus narrowed his dark eyes. He did not like anyone talking about his female family members that way, especially not Bella.

"She's married, you know." Regulus reminded.

Mordred snorted, "Yeah, to that pretty boy over there." he pointed at Lucius Malfoy, who was dusting off his white robes even though they were not dirty, "I think I might have a chance."

"You meant _Narcissa?"_ Regulus checked, taken aback.

"Yeah, the blonde one." Mordred nodded, "Do you know if she likes younger men?"

Regulus shrugged. "She's married."

Mordred was almost seventeen, a few months away from being of legal age in the Wizarding World. He had dirtyblond hair that reminded Regulus of their other classmate, Barty Crouch Junior.

Barty would have probably liked to participate in Dark Arts training but his father would never allow it, especially with his high position in the Ministry of Magic. He would be jealous when Regulus told him about it next fall.

The back door to the Black Manor opened. The strange boy at the end of the line smiled as a middle-aged man in black uniform that matched his own exited the house and strode down the cobblestone pathway to where the students stood. He walked as if he was a soldier marching into battle.

" _Otets."_ The strange boy greeted him.

Regulus did not know what it meant. It was obviously another language.

The middle-aged man responded in the same foreign language. Then said in English, "Here you call me 'Professor Karkaroff', Igor, and you speak English."

The boy, now identified as Igor, nodded at the middle-aged man, now identified as Professor Karkaroff. Regulus noticed then that the two looked very much alike, the older man just had a fuller and grayer version of the same goatee.

Maybe they were father and son, Regulus guessed.

"You speak Russian?!"

Another accented voice had called from a distance. It was the scruffy man in the wooden gazebo.

Professor Karkaroff turned to glare towards the wooden structure. "I remember you, Antonin Dolohov, you were the one expelled from Durmstrang for public intoxication."

"I don't remember you." shrugged the scruffy man named Antonin Dolohov, "Then again, I don't remember much of anything from my year at Durmstrang." He raised a bottle he held in his hand.

Karkaroff turned away in disgust to face the students before him the way a military commander would face his army.

He lifted his wand but did not cast a spell. Instead he just pointed to each of the students in line, counting them under his breath.

"There is supposed to be one more…" he said.

He must have meant Bella. Where was she anyway?

Regulus glanced around the green-grassed backyard. The gazebo, the fountain, the cobblestone path. Bella was nowhere to be seen.

Just as Regulus was about to offer to go look for her, the back door of the Black Manor swung open and out sauntered Bella in a black dress that was really too short for practicing magic in (or for a married woman to be wearing). Everyone stared at her, either in distaste or desire depending upon the eyes staring.

"Forget about the blonde one." Mordred muttered.

Regulus clenched his fists but continued looking at his cousin.

She had reached the grass now but was not yet joining the line. She passed her husband Rodolphus without looking at him and he looked away from her as she did.

"You're late." Karkaroff said sharply, "At Durmstrang lateness is not tolerated."

"Sorry." Bella shrugged unconvincingly.

"Get in line." Karkaroff ordered, pointing at the empty space on the grass next to Sirius.

Sirius groaned in complaint as Bella walked over to stand beside him. She passed Regulus on her way, smiling at him, and then sneering at Sirius, who she moved to stand on the right of.

Karkaroff began to walk up and down in front of the line of students, examining them with a cold gaze. "My name is Professor Ingvar Karkaroff and under my tutelage things will be very different for you children than they are at Hogwarts, an institution much inferior to the one I attended and now serve as professor of the Dark Arts at, Durmstrang."

Karkaroff's accent was strong. Regulus could hear Mordred and Alvin snickering next to him. Karkaroff could hear them, too. He stopped in front of them.

"Is something funny?" he questioned, glaring into their nervous eyes with his cold ones.

"No, sir." Mordred and Alvin shook their heads, grimacing in an attempt to hold in their laughter.

"What are your names?" Karkaroff followed-up.

"Mordred Mulciber." Mordred said.

"Alvin Avery." Alvin said.

The two glanced at each other, then back at the Durmstrang professor. Regulus and the other students in the line watched to see what he would do.

"Wrong." Karkaroff said, "You two no longer have names." He stepped back to stare at all the students, "None of you do. You are all just soldiers in training now. Parts of a whole, not individuals."

He waved his wand.

Regulus saw the clothing of the other students in line changing. He looked down at his own attire, it was changing, too. In a few moments, all the students were wearing baggy, gray uniforms—except for Igor, who remained in the black one that matched what Professor Karkaroff wore.

Evan Rosier cried out in alarm. "I just fixed these trousers!" His brown pants that had been bellbottoms earlier were now straight-legged and gray.

Lucius Malfoy was also complaining about his pristine white robes turning into a gray uniform from his place in line beside the Lestrange brothers. Those two shrugged at their new attire, not caring at the change in shape and color.

Regulus glanced at them, then turned to Bella standing on the other side of Sirius, whose red shirt had morphed into the gray uniform as well. Sirius was laughing at Bella who tugged in annoyance at the baggy, long-sleeved and long-pants fabric that had replaced her short, tight dress.

"Uniformity—conformity—is what holds armies together." Karkaroff stated.  
"Now, I want the females to step out of line."

"Excuse me?" Bella snapped, turning her glare up from her close towards him.

"Females are a distraction." Karkaroff said, "If it were up to me, they would not even be taught magic. But it is not. So, the females will be taught separately from the males, which is what we do at Durmstrang."

Bella folded her arms. "This isn't Durmstrang."

"But this is _my_ lesson." Karkaroff countered.

"This is the _Dark Lord's_ lesson." Bella corrected, "He's just given you the honor of teaching it."

"And he did that because he trusts my ability and my judgement." Karkaroff replied, "Therefore, any order I give is an order from him. Step out of line."

Bella grimaced. She glanced up, past Karkaroff, at the Black Manor. There was a silhouette in a second floor window.

Regulus saw it, too, and wondered who it was. Maybe it was the new Dark Lord.

He looked back to his right, past Sirius, at Bella, staring up at the dark silhouette in the window. She looked away from it and stepped forward, out of the line of students.

Regulus then looked to his left, past Mordred, Alvin, Evan, and Amycus. Alecto in her new gray uniform was keeping her head down, trying to blend in with the boys. Professor Karkaroff had not yet noticed that she was a girl.

The Durmstrang professor was still glaring at Bella. He smirked in triumph when she finally left the line.

"Good." He said, "Disobedience will not be tolerated, either. If you were anyone else, I would make an example of you."

Bella stopped. She was standing right between Regulus and Professor Karkaroff, so Regulus could not see the expressions on either of their faces.

"Why won't you?" Bella tried, "Because I'm a girl?"

She flipped her long hair—long enough that it slapped Regulus in the face because he was standing right behind her. He stepped backwards in case his cousin accidently did that again.

"Because you are not mine to punish." Karkaroff told Bella, "Now go."

Bella turned from him and continued away from the line, across the grass, back towards the cobblestone path. She passed by the Carrow siblings, pointing at Alecto as she did, before veering in the direction of the Black Manor.

"This one's a girl, too." Bella said, not even stopping in front of or facing Alecto as she said it

Alecto glowered at her.

Karkaroff turned from Bella to Alecto. "Step out of line."

Groaning, Alecto glanced a goodbye to her brother Amycus, then followed Bella away from the line of students. The students and their foreign teacher, (and the two men in the gazebo), watched them go.

Once they were gone, Karkaroff looked at the line again, now all males. He scanned it, cold eyes halting at Regulus.

"You, boy." He snapped, "Get back in line."

Regulus jumped up in alarm. He forgot that he had backed up to avoid Bella's beautiful long dark hair. Quickly, he stepped forward to rejoin the line.

Sirius was chuckling at him, but not loudly or obviously enough for their new teacher to notice and single him out. Regulus glared at his older brother out of the corner of his eye.

Professor Karkaroff addressed the group, again. "Martial Magic is the most important kind of magic a wizard should know; dark spells the most powerful category of Martial Magic."

An arm shot up towards the gray skies above. It was Alvin Avery's.

"Excuse me, sir, but won't we get in trouble for using magic underage outside of Hogwarts?" the brown-haired boy asked, lowering his hand.

Karkaroff turned to face him. "'Underage' magic, another foolish concept of your country. No, you will not get in trouble. There are protective charms in place preventing anyone, including your country's weak Ministry of Magic, from finding out what we are doing here."

"My father works for the Ministry…." Mordred grumbled.

"Then you and your father both understand that you cannot tell anyone about this." Karkaroff warned.

Mordred nodded. "We already swore to keep it a secret when the other Russian bloke asked us to join this group." He glanced behind him at the gazebo where the two middle-aged men sat watching.

Karkaroff glanced at them, too, then back at Mordred in offense. "Dolohov may be Russian, but I am _not_. I am Latvian. The muggle Soviet Union does not apply to wizards."

Mordred just shrugged. He did not even know what the Soviet Union was, and neither did Regulus, who was watching, brow furrowed in confusion.

Karkaroff waved his wand again. A row of green bushes (and one that was burned black) transfigured into straw figures in the shape of a human upper body. The students turned to look.

"These are your targets for today." Karkaroff stated, "You will be learning the stabbing spell, _brydda."_

As soon as he said the word silver light in the shape of a blade shot from his wand, stabbing into the closest straw figures. The students gasped at the figure, a hole where its heart would be.

An arm shot up again.

"'Brydda'?" Alvin asked, "That's not Latin."

"It is Old Norse, as are most of the spells I will be teaching you." Karkaroff informed, "Now, you may all practice the spell for yourself." He gestured at the row of straw figures.

The students crossed the grass to stand a few feet in front of them. There were eleven figures, one for each student, as well as the recently stabbed one for their teacher.

Regulus chose the one that had burned black as a bush and was still burned black as straw.

_Brydda…_ what a funny sounding word. He wondered if he would be able to properly cast the spell when he had never used a non Latin-based spell.

The students all raised their wands, aiming them towards the straw figures, but all of them were silent, glancing at each one another.

Regulus glanced at Sirius on his right, then at Mordred on his left. All of them were unsure.

"Brydda!"

The nine students turned towards the accented voice that had called out the spell. It was strange boy at the other end of the line, Igor, the only one of them wearing black.

A blade-shaped light shot from his wand and struck the straw figure before him. Igor looked over to Professor Karkaroff, who was probably his father, for approval but the middle-age man stared expressionlessly with cold eyes.

Regulus noticed Sirius tense next to him. Sirius knew what it was like not to get the approval he desired from a parent (though it was their mother that showed blatant favoritism more than their father).

"Brydda!" Sirius tried.

Now the blade-shaped light shot from his wand. But it was weak. It hit the figure in front of him but was unable to pierce the straw.

A few chuckles emanated from the boys on the other side of Regulus. Mordred and Alvin were laughing at his brother, Sirius. Regulus glowered in their direction.

"It's not like you two'd do any better." Snapped Sirius, who had also heard the chuckles.

Accepting the challenge both Alvin and Mordred readied their wands. "Brydda!" they called out at the same time.

Mordred's wand fizzled. Light shot from Alvin's wand, but it was not shaped like a blade. The boys grimaced, pale faces pinking in embarrassment.

Now it was Sirius chuckling at Regulus' friends Alvin and Mordred. So Regulus glowered in _his_ direction.

"Brydda!" Regulus tried, pointing his wand at the burned figure.

A silver blast struck the straw, piercing it even though it was not shaped like a knife.

Regulus glanced at Sirius, then at Mordred and Alvin, and finally at Professor Karkaroff. The Durmstrang teacher nodded.

Suddenly, every student in line was shooting silver light towards the straw figures and shouting out in Old Norse, as Karkaroff looked on.

Regulus readied his wand to try again. But just before he called out the spell, he glanced up and over at the second floor of the Black Manor. Again, there was a figure, watching from the window.

* * *

This time Bella knocked on the wooden door before entering the entering the guestroom.

The door creaked open, but it had been a spell rather the hand that had opened it. Bella stepped into the doorway of the dim room, light entering from the hallway behind her and the one of the two windows that now had its curtains slightly open.

Lord Voldemort was standing at the window, his back turned to her. She could not see his pet snake anywhere in the dark bedroom and half expected it to lunge at her out from the darkness. It was probably hiding under the bed.

"My lord, the Durmstrang professor forced me to leave." Bella informed, already having forgotten the foreign man's name, "He said women are a distraction."

"He's correct." Voldemort agreed, without turning around to face her.

Bella blinked in shock, then narrowed her eyes in offense. "You agree?!"

"You purposely make yourself a distraction, Bella." Voldemort reasoned, "You arrived late in a revealing outfit, deliberately to draw attention to yourself. You need to be the focus of everyone around you, be that focus positive or negative. An you need every man to be attracted to you, even if you have no plans to return those affections. That qualifies as a distraction."

Bella grimaced.

Was the Dark Lord reading her mind again? She was using Occlumency, but he was probably powerful enough to break through that.

It was scary, the vulnerability of having someone know all her thoughts, feelings and motivations. And Bellatrix Lestrange was rarely ever vulnerable. But at the same time it was…comforting. Finally, someone understood her. _He_ understood her. And he was the only one to truly understand her.

"The professor said something." Bella began, "He said that he couldn't make an example of me because I'm not his to punish. What did he mean by that?"

She smiled slyly. Of course she already knew what the Durmstrang professor had meant. She just wanted to hear her lord say it himself.

Now, the Dark Lord Voldemort turned away from the window to finally face her.

"It means what I told you earlier." He stated, "That you're _my_ student." His pale face and red eyes were devoid of emotion, as was his voice.

Bella wished that there was possessiveness for her his statement, but she knew by now he did not think the same way she did. Sighing, she glanced down at the monstrosity of a gray uniform the Durmstrang professor had transfigured her little black dress into, and then back up at the Dark Lord.

"Can you fix this for me, my lord?" she requested, "You saw how terrible I am with clothing charms when I tried to alter my father's dressrobes for you."

"Ask your mother or your sister." Voldemort redirected.

"My mother's busy burning lunch in the kitchen," Bella dismissed, "and my sister's chatting with Theodora in the sittingroom. I can't stand listening to the frivolous conversations girls have with each other."

"Yet Ingvar was wrong for separating the males and females?" Voldemort tested.

"I'm not like other girls." Bella declared from where she stood in the doorway.

Voldemort rolled his red eyes at that.

This caused Bella to grimace again. Maybe the Dark Lord did not understand her after all.

"You don't think I'm different, my lord?" Bella asked, stepping forward into the dimly-lit room.

She had to know that the Dark Lord Voldemort would not just sleep with _any_ woman. She had to know that the Dark Lord Voldemort would not just teach _any_ student. She had to know that she was special.

"You have talent." Voldemort complimented, only to add, "But you're immature and you waste your time with pointless pursuits."

"Like men?" Bella guessed, "Like sex?"

"Yes." Voldemort nodded. There was just the slightest hint of discomfort in his voice; most of its tone was disdain.

Bella was beginning to realize that his rejections of her advances were not only due to him thinking sex was pointless and a waste of time, but also due to his uneasiness—perhaps even disgust—with it.

She wondered if he had even enjoyed sleeping with her two days ago. He had not been vocal, but a lot of men were like that. It had been over with pretty quickly, but a lot of men were like that, too…

Bella knew Voldemort had only kissed her to distance her from her husband. Had he only slept with her for some other ulterior motive, as well? Probably.

"If it's pointless then why participate in it?" Bella asked, "Unless I was your first time…" She smirked.

"It wasn't." Voldemort said with some sharpness, "And I told you that time that I don't have to explain myself to you."

Bella sighed. Once again she would get no insight into the mysterious man she called her lord.

"I'm sorry, my lord." Bella apologized, "I'll just go ask my mother for help with this." She gestured to the baggy gray uniform she wore.

Voldemort nodded, and though Bella really wanted him to, he did not stop her when she turned to leave the guestroom through the open doorway.

* * *

"If she did, I wouldn't take it personally. She sleeps with everyone's husband."

"Has she slept with your husband?"

"No…well, I don't think so. She wouldn't do that to me. She's my sister. Besides, Malfoys only like blondes. Everyone knows that."

Narcissa and Theodora, who were sitting on the black sofa in front of the coffeetable in the dimly-lit sittingroom, stopped their conversation and looked up at the doorway when they saw Bella standing there. Theodora was glaring at her, but Narcissa smiled.

"Hi, Bella." She greeted, a cup of tea in her hand, "Mother and father are looking for you."

"They're looking for me?" Bella checked in surprise. "Both of them?"

Narcissa nodded her golden blonde head. "They're in the library."

Bella nodded, then returned to the dark hallway to continue down it towards the library.

* * *

"You should be the one to talk to her. Mother to daughter. You understand her better."

"She won't listen to me, Cygnus, you have to be the one to talk to her. She'll respect a man's opinion more than mine."

"You know she won't listen to _me,_ either. She never has."

"Well, maybe, you should talk to Tom about this—"

"And get hexed for forgetting that strange name he calls himself now? Bella probably won't listen to us, but he _certainly_ won't. I doubt he'll listen to anyone. It seems he just does whatever he wants. He appears here uninvited, after decades without contact, and just takes our house and our daughter for himself? And now he's training an army to overthrow the ministry on our property—"

"That's why you have to do something!"

"There's nothing I can do, Druella. He's killed people, you know that, right?"

"…yes, I've heard the rumors."

"So the only thing we can do now is wait out the summer until the boys go back to Hogwarts. Then, we tell Tom the Dark Lord to take his plans and his army elsewhere. We'll say it's not safe here anymore, that the Ministry's spying on us—"

Cygnus and Druella suddenly hushed when they heard footsteps. The door to the library opened to reveal Bella, as soon as she knew she had been caught eavesdropping.

"Cissy said you were looking for me?" she said, stepping into the dark room.

"Close the door behind you, dear." Druella requested.

Bella pushed the door with one hand. It shut. (Not that it would do any good if anyone was listening on the other side, since she had heard much of their conversation from the hall.)

Both her parents were staring at her, concern on their wrinkled faces. Bella noticed then how old they looked, older than they should have at fifty-something, it was most likely the stress of losing their middle daughter to the mudblood.

The Dark Lord did not look that old. Neither did his friends Antonin Dolohov and Tye Nott, though they both looked older than him.

"What is it?" Bella asked.

Druella and Cygnus glanced at each other, both waiting for the other to speak first. Finally, Cygnus sighed.

"Bella, you know we haven't asked you for anything since we asked you to marry Rodolphus." He began, "But we need to ask you for one more thing, and please, Bella, please, just do this for us."

He looked through the darkness of the library at his wife. Druella nodded, grimacing.

"We know you are having an affair, Bella, we're not passing judgement, that's between you and your husband," She continued, "but the children we have here for the summer, they all belong to pureblood families. If they were to report to their parents what you and To—The Dark Lord are doing, well, our family and your husband's family would be the laughing stock of Pureblood Society."

Bella snorted at that. "I'm a Black married to a Lestrange. I have more money in my purse than they do their Gringotts' vaults. All they can do is talk behind our backs. They'll never say anything to our faces. I've had affairs before, they've never done anything—"

"Those affairs were with purebloods!" Cygnus exclaimed, in a rare burst of anger. He calmed himself with a deep breath, then added, "Have you ever heard the name 'Riddle' in the Wizarding World, Bella? No? That's because his father was a muggle—"

"He's the heir of Slytherin!" Bella countered.

"He's still a halfblood." Cygnus reminded, "And a halfblood isn't worthy of my daughter. I know we spoiled you, Bella, I know we always let you do whatever you wanted. But you can't do _this._ A halfblood? For Merlin's sake! How is that any better than your sister Andromeda running off with a mudblood?"

Bella raised her wand, pointing it right at her father's face. His dark eyes widened. Druella gasped, both parents paralyzed in fear.

"Don't you dare compare me to that bloodtraitor!" Bella hissed.

Cygnus stared at the wand in his face, then at his daughter's dark glare. Slowly, he backed away, all the way into the wall-length bookshelf behind him.

"…I'm sorry, that comment was uncalled for." He apologized, the wand still trained on him, "But our point still stands. He's a halfblood and you're a pureblood. It's not right and it's against what both of you are fighting for, against what we all believe in."

Bella lowered her wand. "The Dark Lord is different. He's not like other halfbloods—"

"We know that, dear, but the parents of those children don't and they won't care." Druella reasoned, "If you truly cannot end the affair, or at least suspend it for the summer while the children are here, then you need to be more discrete about it. You were in the guestroom with him all day."

Bella laughed at that since, though she had visited the Dark Lord in his room two times, nothing like what her mother was referring had happened. In fact, Bella had only ever slept with him once, which hardly could be described as an 'affair'.

"The door was open and the boys were outside anyway." Bella responded, folding her arms.

"This is _my_ house." Cygnus declared, "And as long as you're here, you need to follow my rules. If you want to have relations with a halfblood go back to your own home and take him with you."

Bella blinked in shock.

Her father was not seriously suggesting kicking the Dark Lord Voldemort out of his house, was he? He could not possibly be _that_ stupid.

Bella would have laughed again if she was not so offended.

Lord Voldemort was not just some random halfblood to be insulted. He was probably the only halfblood worthy of any respect. Instead of reveling in his blood status like it was something to be proud of, which mudbloods and halfbloods tended to do these days, he had insight enough to see it as an abomination and actively make up for it by fighting for the purification of magical blood.

Druella also blinked in shock. She looked at her husband, then at her daughter, whose face was contorting in anger again.

"What he means to say, dear, is that you need to think of what you and the Dark Lord are trying to do." Druella tried, quickly, before Bella could react to her father's comment, "He's building an army. But if the other purebloods find out about your…relationship, then they'll refuse to follow him, because he'll look like a hypocrite and so will you."

Her words did nothing to unoffend Bella. Being called a 'hypocrite', along with her lord, just made Bella more offended.

"I don't care what they think!" Bella announced, "Lord Voldemort is the most powerful wizard in the world. And if they don't believe that now—if they don't follow him now— _they will._ They once he succeeds where Grindelwald failed. They'll have no choice but to come groveling at his feet, begging forgiveness for doubting him. They'll respect him then, _worship_ him then. They won't call him a hypocrite, then. And they won't call _me_ one, either. They'll respect _me,_ too. Worship _me,_ too."

Silent stares were the reaction of Cygnus and Druella to their daughter's short and passionate speech. The dimly-library was quiet as Bella caught her breath after speaking.

Finally, after a long silence, Druella spoke.

"It could've been anyone who came to the door that day and it wouldn't have mattered." she realized. "Halfblood, pureblood—even mudblood! You're following the Dark Lord not because of the man he is, but because he's the man you wish you could be, Bella. Everything you've always wanted to accomplish, now you can do through him. You want the world to follow and worship him so that they'll follow and worship you."

Now it was Bella whose reaction was a silent stare to her mother's insight.

Her mother was wrong…wasn't she? _Wasn't she?_ …Or maybe her own mother knew her better than she had ever given her credit for.

It was scary, the vulnerability of having someone know all her thoughts, feelings and motivations. And Bellatrix Lestrange was rarely ever vulnerable.

This was _not_ comforting.

Bella did not want her mother of all people to know everything about her. She did not want her mother to know things about her she did not even admit to herself.

"That's not true." She denied, quietly, like she was trying to convince herself as much as she was trying to convince them.

Druella looked unconvinced. So did Cygnus.

"You were never satisfied with being a girl." He added, "And that's partially our fault. You always knew we wanted son."

Bella only glared in response before turning, storming out of the dim library, and slamming the door behind her, leaving her parents in the dark.

* * *

Ten of the eleven straw figures were stabbed to tatters each time the students struck them with the _brydda_ spell _._ But one wave of Professor Karkaroff's wand and the figures reformed to their original torso-like shapes.

"Again." He said.

And so the boys raised their wands, aimed at the straw figures, and cast the spell again.

" _Brydda!"_

Igor's wand sent another perfect knife into his straw figure. He knew the spell better than the British students and had more comfort with Old Norse.

Still, Professor Karkaroff ignored his success.

" _Brydda!"_

The silver knife-shaped light from Sirius' wand was finally able to pierce the straw figure before him.

" _Brydda!"_

Mordred was improving, as well. His wand was no longer fizzling.

Regulus readied his wand again. He stared at the burned straw figure in front of him, wand pointed towards him.

But before he cast the spell, he glanced back at the Black Manor behind him. Like earlier, there was a silhouette in the second floor window. Watching.

Just as Regulus was about to turn and face the straw figure again, he saw the manor's back door swing open. Out stomped Bella.

She was still wearing the baggy gray uniform that all the students (except Igor) wore. Her long dark hair swiped behind her like an angry dragon's tail. She was small from far away but growing larger quickly as she quickly got closer.

Sirius had seen Bella exit the house, too. He glanced at her, and then turned towards Regulus, asking "What do you think's got her knickers in a twist?"

Regulus just gulped.

Bella looked upset. Bad things happened when Bella was upset.

" _Brydda!"_

" _Brydda!"_

" _Brydda!"_

Regulus could hear the other students still practicing their stabbing spells beside him but he was not doing the same. Instead, he and Sirius were watching Bella cross the grass towards the line of students and row of targets, wand already drawn and a scowl on her face.

Now, the other students had finally noticed Bella approach. So did Professor Karkaroff. The students lowered their wands. Professor Karkaroff did not.

"What are you doing here?" He demanded, "You are disrupting the boys' training." He motioned towards the students who were now staring at Bella in confusion instead of practicing the stabbing spell.

Bella did not look at them. She continued to face Professor Karkaroff.

"Get out of the way." She ordered.

"Excuse me?" Karkaroff snapped in offense at the disrespect.

Bella had raised her wand. Wordlessly, she shot a spell right past the Durmstrang professor. It struck the eleventh straw figure he had used in demonstration earlier, instantly setting it ablaze.

"What are you doing?!" Karkaroff exclaimed, "What is wrong with you?!"

Bella just blasted another spell. And another. And another. She did not stop until all the straw figures in the row in front of the students had burned down to ash and rising smoke.

The students stared in shock. So did the two older men in the wooden gazebo a few yards away, who had stood up from the benches inside to get a better view.

Out of the corner of his eye, Regulus saw Rodolphus step forward from the line of students. "Bella…" he tried, cautiously, "…what's going on?"

Bella lowered her wand and looked over at her husband, a few feet away from where she stood beside the burned figures.

"I was just in the mood to destroy something." She shrugged, "That's all."

Rodolphus opened his mouth to speak again, but Professor Karkaroff spoke first.

"You are out of control." Karkaroff stated, "I do not know what the Dark Lord sees in you—other than a pretty face, of course. And a pretty face is all you will ever be. This is why women should not be given wands and magical training."

Instantly, Bella lifted her wand again, turning towards him, "Don't insult me on my own property, foreigner."

Now Professor Karkaroff lifted his wand, pointing it towards her. "You think I'm afraid of a _woman?"_

All the students were watching now as Bella and Karkaroff aimed their wands at each other, the burned straw beside them, its gray smoke drifting towards the gray sky.

Regulus tensed. So did Sirius who stood next to him.

Bella was the first to strike. A hex flew from her wand towards Karkaroff. A shield spell from his wand blocked it. Bella shot another hex. Karkaroff blocked again.

"Bella! Stop!" Regulus shouted.

Sirius grabbed his arm, "Reg, don't. She'll attack you, too."

Regulus closed his mouth and silenced.

Professor Karkaroff was only using defensive spells as Bella continued to bombard him with attacks. He must have known many offensive spells, Regulus reasoned, but for some reason he was not employing them.

This really confused Regulus. He furrowed his brow at the scene.

Bella again shot a hex—no, a curse. Red light blasted from her wand. It looked like the cruciatus curse, though Regulus was not sure. He had never seen it before.

Regulus' dark eyes widened. An Unforgiveable Curse? Even Bella would not use an illegal curse like that… _would she?_

Karkaroff blocked the red blast with another shield charm.

Suddenly, motion was visible in Regulus' peripheral vision. He glanced behind him to see an unfamiliar man exit the Black Manor and walk down the cobblestone path towards where the students were gathered watching their new teacher and Bella fight.

The man was pale and dressed all in black. His hair was dark and his eyes were red. When he finally passed by where Regulus and Sirius stood on the grass, his very presence made them uneasy enough to back away from him, despite them not being in his path.

He did not even glance at them as he walked towards where Bella and Karkaroff were by the charred figures that were once straw. Both immediately lowered their wands upon seeing him.

Regulus knew then, for sure, who the man was. He was the new Dark Lord.

"My lord." Bella said, confirming Regulus' guess. "He insulted me—"

"There is no excuse." The Dark Lord dismissed.

Bella stared down at her shoes in shame. "I'm sorry."

Regulus gaped.

He had never seen Bella ashamed before. He had never seen her apologize to anyone before. He had never seen her show such respect and deference to anyone before.

If the Dark Lord could make Bella do all that he had to be incredibly powerful. Regulus could not help but be in awe of that.

The Dark Lord turned towards Professor Karkaroff.

"She has no discipline." Professor Karkaroff declared, "I cannot— _will not_ —teach a student like that. You warned me that she would act out and that I should not attempt to punish her. You said that she was your student and she would only obey you. So…"

"So?" The Dark Lord repeated.

"So you know the Durmstrang way." Karkaroff reminded, "Corporal punishment. _Public_ punishment. You cannot let her get away with behavior like this or all the other students will lose respect and act out as well."

He gestured at the crowd of students watching on the grass.

"I understand your reasoning, but I'll handle her another way." the Dark Lord told Professor Karkaroff. He then turned towards Bella, still staring down at her shoes. "Bella, come with me."

Bella nodded, silently.

Regulus, the other students, and Professor Karkaroff watched as she followed the new Dark Lord back across the grass, back up the cobblestone path, and back past all the staring purebloods into the Black Manor.

* * *

Bella had followed the Dark Lord Voldemort up the spiraling stairs. They climbed up to the third floor where they passed Narcissa's childhood bedroom and then the bloodtraitor's childhood bedroom turned dormitory, before entering Bella's own childhood bedroom and closing the door behind them.

Bella was sure she was going to get hit with a cruciatus curse as soon as that door closed and locked. She stood on the hardwood floor in the center of the dim room, awaiting the pain.

Lord Voldemort's red eyes just stared at her instead from in front of the closed door.

The gaze was too intense. She stared down at her shoes, again.

"You went out there looking for a fight." Voldemort said, "It wasn't because Ingvar insulted you. I know why you were angry."

Bella tensed.

Slowly, she looked up at the Dark Lord. "You…heard the argument I had with my parents."

"I saw it in their minds." Voldemort adjusted, "I passed them both on my way outside to stop you. They think I've overstayed my welcome here."

Carefully, Bella chuckled, just a little. "It doesn't matter what they think, my lord. They're not going to send you away. They're too scared to."

The Dark Lord Voldemort did not smile back at her. Bella's smile red-lipped fell and her chuckle stopped.

"Your father thinks I'm unworthy of you because I'm a halfblood." Voldemort continued.

Bella grimaced, dark eyes widening.

He knew her father had said _that,_ too? Cygnus might already be lying dead downstairs as Bella and the Dark Lord spoke.

"He's wrong, my lord." Bella disagreed quickly, "He didn't know what he was saying. My parents have been broken since my sister betrayed our family."

Voldemort did not respond to her explanation. Instead he said, "Your mother thinks you're only following me to gain power for yourself through me."

" _She's_ wrong, my lord." Bella stated, "She doesn't know anything about me. Look into my mind. You can see it's not true."

Bella released the moat of Occlumency she had been guarding her mind with since Lord Voldemort had told her mastering the skill would earn her way into bed with him again. The dark waters receded. Bella could feel someone wading in.

And those red eyes. They continued to stare into her dark ones. This time she could not look away.

"All I see is that you don't fully know your own motivations." Voldemort said, glancing away from her at the curtained window.

Bella took a breath.

If the Dark Lord thought she was just using him for her own gain, he would probably react in anger. But, so far, he was calm. He did not even seem to be that angry about her fight with the Durmstrang professor.

Still, there was tension between them and not of the kind Bella would have liked. She decided to risk humor, hoping to lighten the mood in the dim bedroom—and perhaps, change the kind of tension.

"But _you_ know my motivations, my lord." Bella tried. "'Pointless pursuits' is what you called them."

She started towards him. As ugly as she felt in the baggy gray uniform, there had to be a reason Voldemort had led her _here_ talk. They could have had this conversation anywhere else in the house. He had chosen a bedroom.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to reward you after you attacked a skilled wizard devoting his summer to my cause?"

"I can do Occlumency and Legilimency now." Bella reasoned, "Isn't that what you wanted?"

She continued in his direction. He could not back away, the door was closed and locked behind him, and did not try.

The discomfort Bella had seen in the Dark Lord earlier was gone. Now, he stepped across the hardwood floor towards her. She stopped, letting him come as close to her as he wanted to. There was still some distance, more than Bella wanted, but not so much that one of them could not reach out to touch the other.

"Your parents don't approve." Lord Voldemort said, "They tolerate your unfaithfulness to your husband, so long as it's with a pureblood. But not with me."

"I don't care." Bella dismissed. "And I know you don't either, my lord. Do you?"

Her dark eyes looked up at him expectantly. He was taller than her and so was looking down at her with red eyes, forehead slightly furrowed as if he was trying to decide something.

_What was more important to the Dark Lord Voldemort now?_ Bella wondered. Distancing her from her parents the same way he had distanced her from her husband? Or refusing to reward her earlier bad behavior of picking a fight with the Durmstrang professor?

Bella could not guess and was not going to bother trying to use Legilimency to find out, since that might just make him choose the option she did not want. Still, maybe she could do something to achieve her goal…

Bella leaned her lips upwards, towards the Dark Lord's face.

He immediately turned away from her.

Sighing in defeat, she lowered her head and stared down at her shoes, once more.

She had pushed him too hard. She had tried to take control of the situation—tried to take control of him—and he would not allow it.

Bella was about to apologize and back away when Voldemort spoke.

"Lie down." He said.

Bella looked back up at him. It was then she realized what he had turned away from her to look at. It was her bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My opinion of "I'm not like other girls" kind of girls is very low. Don't be a Bella. Same with "you're not like other [insert whatever minority group]" people. No. Just no.


	10. The Bridge

The Dark Lord Voldemort portrayed himself as a deity walking on earth. He had since he had arrived at the Black Manor, under the pseudonym Marvolo, ready to reveal who he truly was; the warrior who could defeat multiple opponents at once, the necromancer who could bring the dead back to life (even if they were just House Elves) as if he was God or Death himself, the man who would be the next great ruler of wizards and muggles.

The man. And that was what he still was. A man. A human. He could be seduced, just like any man could. He had pride, like any man did.

Bella had always known it, despite calling him a ‘lord’— _her_ lord (was she indulging him by doing so? Or indulging _herself,_ and her own desire to finally find a man worthy of her reverence?). She knew it when he had finally given into her advances and slept with her the first time, and she knew it again when he had brought her to her bedroom to scold her for attacking the Durmstrang professor (and to punish her parents for saying he was not worthy of her because he was a halfblood).

He was a human. And Bella could see it now. The Dark Lord Voldemort. The human.

He was sitting up already, like last time, while she lay beside him, both of them onto of the black blankets rather than under them. But this time he was not in such a hurry to get up and get away from her like she was some ugly old hag he had to get drunk enough to sleep with.

He was breathing, his back against a propped up pillow. Bella could see his chest rising and falling. Human. Alive.

Voldemort did not have the vanity muscles a lot of wizards used spells and potions to give themselves—which provided no extra strength and so often led to embarrassment. (And though he did use a stiffening charm, he did not seem like the type to use size-increasing spells or potions—which were difficult to do correctly and so often led to even more embarrassment than false muscles did.)

Voldemort’s body was skinny, almost to the point of emaciation, which was expected, since Bella had never once witnessed him eat anything. His body was pale, which had always been the fashion among English purebloods, even more than his face and hands were, and more so than any person Bella had ever met, so she understood why there were (untrue) rumors of him being a vampire.

He looked sick. That was the truth though Bella would never tell him so. She wondered if he had a secret illness he was not telling her, or anyone, about.

…and if so, she hoped it was not sexually transmitted.

Red eyes were glaring at Bella now. She blushed and grimaced in embarrassment, quickly restoring the waters of her Occlumency. 

“I should be the one worried about contracting a disease from _you,_ Bella.” Voldemort sniffed, tone of voice somewhere between offense and amusement.

He was looking down at her where she lay on her side next to him on the twin-size bed that was really too small for two people. She had scooched into the corner, almost falling into the sliver between the bed and the faded wallpaper, to make room for the man—the human—that sat beside her.

Bella looked up at his face. A single bead of sweat traveled down his pale forehead onto his pale cheek. Human.

“There are spells to prevent that.” Bella dismissed, “Just like there are spells to prevent pregnancy.”

“I know.” Lord Voldemort said.

Bella grinned a little. “From personal experience, my lord? How many other women have there been, besides me?”

She doubted she would receive an answer but she asked anyway. She could not imagine him going home with random women he met in pubs, but he was old enough to have had a good number of experiences. Plus, he was not bad looking, especially for a man his age.

Voldemort raised an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’d tell you?”

Bella’s grin turned to a pout. “At least tell me if I’m the prettiest or not.”

“That, of all descriptions, is the one you want?” Voldemort tested, “Do you really have so little substance?”

“The most powerful witch, then.” Bella retried.

At that, the Dark Lord smirked. “But that wouldn’t be true.”

Bella furrowed her brow. “Who was she?”

Voldemort looked away, over at the window. Beyond the black curtain and gray clouds of the dim sky, the afternoon sun still hovered, its most of its light obscured but a faded amount able to enter the dim bedroom.

Bella knew the Dark Lord Voldemort was not going to tell her about whoever the powerful witch was—but he was probably thinking of the woman right now. If Bella could just look into his mind…

Bella squinted her dark eyes in the dark room. She stared at the dark hair on the back of the Dark Lord’s head.

All she could see was dark smoke.

“She’s dead.” Voldemort said, still not facing Bella, “You have no need to be jealous of her.”

“I’m not jealous, my lord.” Bella responded, “Just…curious.”

That was partially true. She _was_ curious. But she was also jealous.

In fact, jealously had been the first thing to ever trigger her magic when her newborn middle sister had gotten more attention from their parents.

Bella inched closer to where the Dark Lord Voldemort sat on the bed next to her.

She could touch him, now, right? A few minutes before, he had let her hands had wander all over his pale and skinny body, during the act. Why not afterwards, as well?

He was human. He should want to be touched.

Bella attempted to lean her face and upper body against Voldemort’s chest. Skin to skin. For a moment there was warmth…

Voldemort immediately stood up. “Get up. Get dressed. We have something to do.”

Slowly, Bella sat up in bed. “What are we going to do, my lord?”

“I’m going to teach you how to raise the dead.” The Dark Lord declared.

* * *

 

Tower Bridge crossed over the dark blue waters of the River Thames flowing through London, England. Its metal bars and beams had recently been painted light blue to honor the 25th Anniversary of the muggle Queen taking the throne. The stone bricks remained their original gray color, the two towers they created resembling castles.

On the bridge, there was a footpath beside the lanes of cars driving. It was mostly empty this late afternoon, except for some muggle tourists idling on the sidewalk, staring out at the river or into maps held open in their hands, and a few locals sidestepping around them and striding at a much faster pace.

But unbeknownst to the few muggles crossing the bridge on foot, there was also a wizard and a witch on the footpath. They almost blended in among them, dressed in reasonably mugglish attire. The man was wearing a black suit, the woman a black dress. The man looked sort of albino, with reddish eyes and whitish skin, but his hair was dark just like the young woman’s.

Bella bristled as she scanned her surroundings.

There was the river to both her left and right, flowing under the bridge she was crossing. Ahead of her, on the other side of the river, she could see the Tower of London. On the side of the river behind her was a small, grassy park that had once been a burial ground for poor muggles.

That was where she and Voldemort had apparated to, appearing unseen between a tall bush and a tree. Potters Field, it was called.

Now, Voldemort and Bella were about to cross under the first stone archway tower that held up Tower Bridge. They were almost half way across.

Bella was obviously tense. She kept glancing behind her to see if any muggles were sneaking up on her, and she flinched every time a car drove by.

Her discomfort made Voldemort chuckle to himself.

Bella really was not used to muggles or muggle society. The only time she ever spent with them was when she was chasing them through that field and killing them, it seemed.

She was walking a few steps behind him, letting him lead the way because she did not know where they were going, and keeping one hand on the blue-painted railing between her and the river. She kept Voldemort between her and the road where the metal contraptions whizzed past, tossing her long black hair into the air.

Voldemort glanced behind him as he walked, to make sure Bella was still following him.

She looked at him, grimace still present on her face, then gazed upwards at the intricate stone structure they were approaching. It was tall with pillars and points like a cathedral.

“There’s no way muggles could’ve designed that.” Bella commented, “They’re not smart enough, not creative enough. It was a wizard, wasn’t it, my lord?”

Voldemort nodded confirmation in answer to her question, even though he was sure that it actually had been muggles to architect and build the Tower Bridge.

Muggles were the second smartest species on earth but despite all their intelligence and their inventions, like the bridge, and like cars, they did not have magic. And it was magic that made wizards and witches superior.

Bella’s grimace became a triumphant smile. “I knew it.”

The afternoon was already dim under the clouds. But it was even darker beneath the stone archway of the bridge.

A red doubledecker bus zoomed by just as Voldemort and Bella stepped under the stone structure, briefly transforming the archway into wind tunnel. 

Bella shrieked, the sound echoing. Her dress and hair rose in the wind. She hurried forward and grabbed onto Voldemort’s arm, even though by the time she had, the bus and the wind was gone.

Voldemort tensed at Bella’s sudden grasp. He was sure her hand felt the tensing through his sleeve.

It was not that he did not like being touched, it was that he did not like what it represented. Familiarity. Equality. _Humanity._

He had been denied those things as a child, and though the absence had once bothered him, now he knew that it had made him stronger, better, _above_ the needs and ties that made people weak. One had to be above in order to look down on others like a god. And gods were not human.

Voldemort shrugged off Bella’s grasp.

It was one thing for her to touch him when they were alone, and for a purpose (even if that purpose was something as unproductive as sex). But she was certainly not allowed to cling onto him in public, like they were lovers taking a romantic stroll across the bridge.

Bella stopped as soon as she was shrugged off. “Why are we here, surrounded by all these muggles?”

She eyed the family of muggle tourists ahead of them under the dark archway. The parents argued over the map in the father’s hands, ignoring their children who chased each other out of the stone structure, teetering too close to the road. Bella hoped they would trip and fall. In fact, maybe they would…

Bella lifted her wand, pointing at the screeching children ahead.

Voldemort’s red yes saw her, almost glowing in the under-archway dark. “Put that away.”

Bella sighed. She slowly inserted her wand through the neckline of her dress, into her bra hidden beneath, making sure those glaring red eyes were watching as she did.

The red eyes rolled in dismissal.

Bella really did not have much there. Spells and potions that could change that, of course, but apparently she felt no need to use them.

“We’re almost there.” Voldemort informed.

He turned away from her to continue under the archway towards the middle of the bridge. He knew she would follow.

The two strode quickly, navigating around the arguing muggle couple, and coming out the other side of the stone structure. The running muggle children were now running back and forth past them.

Bella stuck out her foot into their oncoming path…

“No.” Voldemort turned to glare at her. She was as childish as the muggle children. Why had he chosen her to train, again? To sleep with?

Bella’s shoulders fell in defeat. She returned to her foot to its original position and continued walking down the sidewalk after Voldemort.

He turned his red glare towards the running children. Terrified, they screamed and sprinted back to their oblivious parents.

Once again, Voldemort and Bella were under the cloudy sky. Cars and water rushed by.

Finally, they were in the middle of Tower Bridge. This was the drawbridge section, that would part and raise up to allow boats to pass through.

Voldemort stopped. He turned to face Bella, who stopped as soon as he did.

“Why are we here, my lord?” she asked again.

“Because, to raise the dead, you must make a deal with Death.” Voldemort explained, “You’re borrowing his dead and he wants a fair trade.”

Bella furrowed her forehead. “Death isn’t a person, it’s a concept…”

“Yes, he’s not a person, but you can speak to him.” Voldemort replied, “Which is why we are here.” He gestured at the bridge they stood on, “A bridge is where you can communicate with Death.”

“Like the Beadle the Bard story?” Bella recalled, “But that’s just an Old Wives Tale.”

“Bridges represent crossing over between life and death.” Voldemort said, “The water beneath represents the flow of time.”

His words were not poetry or metaphorical philosophy, both wastes of time. They were what he had been told by the being Bella was about to meet.

There was a skeptical expression on her face she was trying to mask. Her dark eyes were narrowed. She did not believe him.

Voldemort understood why Bella was dubious, but it still bothered him. He hated being questioned, disbelieved. It was an insult to his competence.

“So how do you…summon Death?” Bella wondered.

“You don’t.” Voldemort dismissed. “Death follows everyone. Look behind you.”

He was already smiling before Bella turned her head to glance behind her. She gasped, and he knew her eyes and mouth must have been wide in shock now.

There was an old, wrinkled man, standing behind her on the sidewalk, wearing a black cloak. He was invisible to the muggle tourists under the archway and to all the muggles that sped by in their cars.

Bella turned her shocked expression to face Voldemort. His smiled widened in the satisfaction of being proven right.

“My lord, there’s…” Bella’s voice trailed off, “You said it was a ‘he’, Death, didn’t you?”

Voldemort’s smile deflated to confusion. “I did. Who do you see?”

“A little girl.” Bella reported, “Wearing a white dress. She looks like she could be m…” Bella did not complete her sentence.

Voldemort did not bother to look into her mind to see what the final words would have been. _‘Me’, maybe? Or ‘my younger self’?_

Instead, he narrowed his red eyes, staring past her, at the old man in the black cloak.

There was no little girl wearing white dress on the bridge in sight. Not behind Bella, not behind the old man, not behind the muggle tourists (neither of their children were wearing white).

There was just a wrinkled old man in a black cloak.

The old man hobbled forward on weak old legs. He was chuckling with a dry, aged voice.

Bella jolted at the voice (whatever the voice was that she was hearing). She spun around to look at Death (whatever the Death was that she was seeing).

Bella was looking down as if at a smaller figure, while Voldemort was staring face to face with the wrinkled old man in the black cloak.

“Everyone perceives death differently.” Death smiled, “You, Tom Riddle, see an old man because death to you is the final stage of deterioration and weakness in humans and all living things.” He looked at Voldemort, and then turned to Bella, “And you, Bellatrix Lestrange, see a young girl because death to you is the loss of youth and the replacement of the previous generation with the new.”

“…you know my name.” Bella said, not sounding surprised at this, though her voice was almost a whisper.

Her back was to Voldemort as she was facing Death. Voldemort could see how long her hair reached down her back, all the way to the skirt of her black dress.

He knew what she saw now— _who_ she saw now. Not a younger version of herself, at least not exactly. She saw a little girl who looked like she could be her daughter.

Voldemort moved to stand beside the young woman and get a closer look at the old man, though still keeping Bella between himself and Death. She glanced up at him when he stepped near her, before looking at Death again.

“Yes, and the names of all the people you’ve killed.” Death confirmed. “You’ve given me many gifts...”

Bella smiled.

“…but not ones that I’ve wanted. It’s not your or any human’s place to end lives.” Death continued. “That is my right and mine alone.”

Bella frowned.

“If it was your right alone, then we wouldn’t have the capability.” Voldemort reasoned. “You’re not as all powerful as you think.”

“Neither are you.” Death returned.

None of the three spoke for a tense moment. They could hear the muggle cars rushing by on the road beside them and the river water rushing in the Thames below them.

“So I have to make a deal with you.” Bella said, finally breaking the silence. “So I can use necromancy.”

The old man Death smiled again, wrinkled face contorting.

Voldemort wondered what Bella was seeing. Perhaps, a little girl with turning Bella’s own playful, taunting smirk back on herself, like looking in a distorted, uncanny mirror.

Whatever it was, the sight made Bella tense uneasily. She sidestepped closer to Voldemort. This time, though, she did not try to touch him, and this time, though, he did not move away.

“So Riddle told you that?” Death assumed. Neither Bella nor Voldemort bothered (dared?) to correct him for using the old name.

Bella nodded. “Yes.”

“Did he tell you what the deal was?” Death followed-up.

Bella shook her head. “No.”

She glanced up at Voldemort standing next to her, dark eyes confused and curious.

“I told you, Death wants a fair trade.” Voldemort repeated.

“But what can I give him?” Bella asked, still not understanding. “Surely not money or material things...”

Death was laughing again, that dry, aged laugh that sounded like deathbed coughing. “You give me the only payment I can accept. Life.”

Bella turned to face Death again, narrowing her dark eyes. “I have to die?”

 _“Everyone_ has to die.” Death affirmed, looking at Voldemort rather than at Bella. He looked back at Bella when he said, “But those who want the power to raise the dead must die sooner. For each body they raise from the ground, they give up a year of their own life.”

Bella gasped. She turned to Voldemort. “So each time you…and the time you showed me, with the House Elves…”

Voldemort nodded at her even though it was not true. His horcruxes were his method of circumventing death and the price paid for necromancy, but Bella did not need to know that and neither did Death.

“Are you willing to pay that price?” Death asked Bella.

Bella turned to look at him again. “Yes.” She agreed far too rashly, without taking any time to think about.

It caused both Voldemort and Death to blink in surprise.

“If the Dark Lord is willing to, I will too.” Bella explained. “Besides, I always knew I would die young. I can’t even imagine getting old… _ugly.”_

Death nodded his wrinkled head, old and ugly, the frightening sight of what all those who grew old became. Bella, though, must have been seeing a child’s unmarred skin and innocent beauty, the frightening sight of what she had already lost.

“Shake my hand.” Death said, extending a gnarled hand towards Bella.

Bella bent down to the height of a child and took the hand, shaking it like it was very small and delicate, even more so than her own hand.

Voldemort watched.

There was no magical sign to single that the deal had been done, but he knew it had been, as soon as Bella rose back to her full height and glanced at him. He was still staring past her, at the wrinkled old man.

For the third time Death smiled. “I will see you both very soon.”

And, with that, he was gone.

* * *

 

Today was the day. This time, it really was.

Once again, the man was standing on the edge of Tower Bridge. He had left the footpath and walked onto the stone balcony behind one of the bridges towers. The balcony over looked the River Thames with only a stone wall separating the any pedestrians from the edge. The man had climbed upon to that wall, onto the edge.

Now, he gazed down at the waters below, reflecting the gray sky above. There were boats idling in the current that would soon be sweeping him away.

Today was the day.

The soles of Man’s shoes dug into the stone of the ledge instead of pushing off of them to jump. His legs were resisting, again, they had developed a balance from standing here every day, willing a gust of wind or stranger from behind, shoving him off of the bridge and into the river.

If only Man could just work up the courage to do it himself…

“The fall won’t kill you.”

Man jolted at the sudden voice behind him. Arms flailing, he almost tumbled forward into the water he was staring down at. Again, his shoes and his legs caught him, steadying him on the stone wall.

He glanced back to find the source of the voice who had spoken to him.

It was an older albino-looking man with creepy red eyes standing on the balcony behind and below. There was a younger woman, too, a few yards away, leaning against the cathedral-like stone structure that created the bridge archway, watching.

“I know, I know, it’s the landing.” Man completed the common saying.

Albino shook his head. “No. You’re not high up enough.” The creepy red eyes gazed past Man, down at the waters below.

Albino was right, Man realized. The river was not very far down from where Man stood, even though he was higher up by virtue of standing atop the ledge rather than the balcony where Albino stood. The fall would not kill him and neither would the landing.

Man had been staring down at these waters for weeks now since had made up his mind. _How had he not realized this in all that time?_

…or, maybe, he truly had not made up his mind, after all. Maybe, his eyes and subconscious were resisting like his shoes and legs, and they had chosen this spot on purpose.

“Oh.” Was all Man could say.

He looked forward, back down at the River Thames. The current lapped at the bridge. He was no longer afraid to jump.

But, before he could, he heard Albino’s voice speak from behind him again.

“Imperio.”

* * *

 

Bella heard screaming as soon as she and Lord Voldemort had apparated into the overgrown field near the Black Manor. It was the muggle.

Muggle had landed face down, instead of on his feet, on a patch of tallgrass that flattened beneath his weight and the force of the landing. His jeans and t-shirt were stained with mud as he rolled over to face the wizard and witch advancing towards him.

“How did we get here?!” Muggle exclaimed, scanning the field surrounding him with wide and frightened eyes before turning back to face the two staring down at him, “Who the hell are you?!”

Muggle attempted to stand. But one wave to Lord Voldemort’s wand and he back again, as if glued to the weeds on the muddy ground.

“I am Death.” Voldemort declared.

This confused Bella but made her smile anyway. Maybe the Dark Lord liked to play games, after all. Maybe the two of them could hunt the muggle in the field together—

A beam of green light struck Muggle. His wide, fearful eyes lost their light and his tensed body fell limp. He was dead.

“You could’ve let me have some fun with him before you killed him.” Bella whined.

“This isn’t for your barbaric game, Bella.” Voldemort said, “This is for your training. You have a corpse. Now, I’m going to teach you the spell to revive it.”

“What is it, my lord?” Bella asked.

“Exsurgo.” Voldemort answered.

Bella blinked. “That’s it?”

“The spell itself isn’t difficult, it’s successfully casting it that is.” Voldemort told her, “Most people who try it don’t realize they must first make the deal with Death. Those that do realize either don’t believe that Death is a being able to make deals, or don’t know how to find him.”

“How did you know?” Bella inquired, “How did you find him?”

“Someone told me.” Voldemort answered, “Just like I told you.”

Bella raised a thin dark eyebrow. “It was the woman, wasn’t it? The one more powerful than me.”

Voldemort did not confirm or deny. Instead he asked, “Aren’t you going to try the spell?”

He gestured to the muggle corpse lying in the mud. Bella turned towards it, too, pointing her wand.

“Exsurgo.” She said, waving her wand.

The corpse did not move.

“Exsurgo!” She tried again, voice and wand wave more forceful.

The corpse did not move.

“EXSURGO!” She screeched, entire arm striking her wand in the direction of the corpse.

The corpse did not move.

“It’s not working!” Bella exclaimed in frustration. “Why isn’t it working?!”

She blasted the corpse with red light even though it was unable to feel the pain of the Cruciatus Curse. The corpse jostled a bit, absorbing the blow, but not providing Bella with the screams of agony she liked to hear.

Just as she was raising her wand to strike another useless attack, she felt hand press her arm down, gently.

“Enough.” Voldemort said.

Bella turned to face him, forehead furrowed, lowering her wand arm. “I don’t understand. Did I make the deal wrong?”

“Magic is tied to emotions, Bella, and yours more strongly tied than most.” Voldemort explained, “That is what makes it so powerful, but also so weak. If you don’t feel passionately about the spell you’re casting, it won’t work. If you don’t want it work, it won’t work—“

“But I do want it work, my lord, I do.” Bella tried.

“No, you don’t.” Voldemort disbelieved, “You know that if you successfully create an inferi from that corpse, you will lose a year from your life. And you don’t want to. You’re afraid of death.”

“No, I’m not.” Bella countered, crossing her arms and shaking her head. She had to sound and look certain to her lord. She did not want him to think she was cowardly.

But was she really not afraid of death? She was not actually sure of this herself. She had never even been in a situation in which she was actually at risk of dying, and so she did not know whether she would fear it the moment.

The concept of death, though, in the abstract…everyone was afraid of that, right?

Everyone except the Dark Lord Voldemort.  He had conquered that fear and was truly willing to give up his life for the cause of Pureblood Supremacy, not just in battle, but by raising an army of the undead and sacrificing a year of his life own for each soldier.

Bella’s frustration with being unable to cast the spell turned to admiration for the Dark Lord. She looked up at him with wide, adoring eyes.

“How did you learn not to be afraid, my lord?” She asked.

Lord Voldemort’s red eyes examined Bella but he did not answer her question.

He never gave her the information she wanted. The mystery just made Bella more interested in him.

“You have to acclimate yourself to death.” Voldemort said, “You’ve never been any real danger. You have to fight for your life, over and over, until it becomes routine and the fear of death is gone.”

Bella took a breath, processing the information. She assumed the Dark Lord was speaking from personal experience.

“So I should seek out worthy opponents and duel them to the death until I’m not afraid anymore?” Bella guessed, excited at the idea.

She could not think of any other way to make acclimating herself to the threat of death possible—other than participating in the civil war she knew would eventually come to the Wizarding World, brought by the Dark Lord Voldemort.

“No.” Voldemort dismissed immediately, “That’s not worth the risk of an auror investigation.”

“Then should I do, my lord?” Bella wondered.

“Just wait.” Voldemort said, “There will many opportunities to become acclimated to death in the future.”

War was coming. Now Bella was even more impatient for it.

“Why have me make the deal with Death and teach me the spell if you knew I wouldn’t able to use it until later?” Bella questioned.

“I didn’t know.” Voldemort admitted. “I didn’t think someone so bloodthirsty would be so afraid of the very thing you cause.”

Bella grimaced, looking away from his pale face and red eyes, over at the muggle corpse lying on the flattened grass of the field.

Her lord did think she was a coward, after all. His expectations of her had been higher than she was currently able to meet. She was weak.

Bella felt the palm of a hand touch her cheek.

The Dark Lord Voldemort was touching her! And not for any obvious secret purpose beyond making her feel better.

Bella would have grinned ecstatically if she was not so ashamed of being afraid and failing her lord. Instead, she just smiled softly, nestling he cheek into the touch.

She did not look up to meet Voldemort’s red eyes. She was afraid that if she did, he would pull his hand away.

For Bella, the touch was comforting. But she could feel how tense the hand on her cheek was, how uncomfortable.

The Dark Lord did not like giving or receiving affection, that much was clear.

Bella did not know why, but suspected it was probably the fact that he was, well, a ‘Dark Lord’, which was not a title that exuded warmth and tenderness. Or, maybe, it also had something to do with him calling himself ‘Death’ to the muggle. He might have wanted his touch to kill, only, not comfort.

Whatever it was, Bella felt honored just to have his hand on her cheek.

“I’ll learn not to be afraid, my lord.” Bella said. “I promise.” She turned to smile at Lord Voldemort.

As soon as she did, he removed his hand.


	11. Chapter 11

The shed, like everything else on the Black Estate, had fallen into dilapidation over the course of years and had then been restored by magic in a matter of minutes for the pureblood party held the week before. The wooden structure sat on the grassy back lawn between the fountain and the gazebo—which was currently in the process of being remodeled by three wands.

The wands waved. The spells cast. The wooden boards of the gazebo separated from their original form, rose towards the setting sun, then reformed into the shape of a small house.

The pointed roof was the same, but now, instead of pillars and open air, there were wooden walls and glassless windows and…no door.

Rodolphus Lestrange, who held one of the three wands constructing the small house, turned to his brother Rabastan Lestrange. "Where's the door, Bas?"

Bas, who held another of the three wands, grimaced. He quickly flicked his wand. Some boards unattached from the small house, creating a doorway.

Rod the flicked his wand. A board transfigured into a door which sailed into the doorway.

Now, Cygnus Black flicked his wand. Glass appeared in the open windows of the small house.

The new guesthouse was complete.

Ingvar Karkaroff was watching from where he stood on the cobblestone path that had once led to the gazebo and now led to the guesthouse. He nodded in appreciation at its completion.

"Thank you." his accented voice said. "It looks like a satisfactory place for my son and I to stay."

Rod, Bas and Cygnus lowered their wands and turned towards him.

None of the four men acknowledged that the reason the Durmstrang professor and his son were to stay outside of the Black Manor in a separate guesthouse had less to do with the lack of space in the large manor and more to do with xenophobia.

"You're welcome." Cygnus returned. "My wife is serving dinner inside. Please join us."

Karkaroff nodded again. He followed Cygnus, Rod and Bas back up the cobblestone pathway, up the hill towards the Black Manor.

They were passing the shed when Rod glanced away from the house ahead, over to his right. He could see three figures approaching the restored shed.

Rod recognized his wife, Bellatrix Lestrange, and the man who called himself the new Dark Lord. But the third figure? It was dressed like a muggle and shuffling as it walked towards the shed.

Furrowing his brow, Rod stopped to watch.

Bella was wearing a black dress again, instead of the gray uniform Karkaroff had transformed all the students' outfits into. Rod was not surprised she had changed, since she had hated the baggy uniform, but Rod suspected something more had happened in between her taking off the gray uniform and putting on a black dress.

Bas stopped, too, when he saw his older brother stop. "What is it, Rod?"

Rod pointed at the shed, turning to face it. Bas turned to face it, too, also furrowing his brow in confusion.

As they walked, Cygnus and Karkaroff glanced back at the halted brothers, and then at what the brothers were staring at. The shed and three figures. The older men grimaced in disgust at the sight of Bella, though for different reasons.

Rod knew why Karkaroff did not like Bella, she had disrupted his lesson earlier that afternoon and attacked him. But why Cygnus was angry with his daughter, Rod did not know (though he could guess it was probably due to the man she was standing next to at the moment).

Cygnus and Karkaroff looked away ad continued their trek back up the cobblestone path to the manor.

Rod and Bas remained, watching the shed and the three figures.

"What're they doing?" Bas wondered, scratching his brown hair, "Who's that other person they're with?"

Rod did not respond and just continued to stare. He narrowed his green eyes, attempting to magnify his distance vision.

Bella opened the door to the shed. Lord Voldemort waved his wand. The third figure shuffled into the shed. Bella closed the door and waved her wand to lock it.

"They've captured someone." Bas inferred, "But who? Why?"

"Knowing Bella it's probably just a random muggle to torture for fun." Rod muttered. The shuffling did not look like a normal muggle, but maybe that was because Bella had already tortured the muggle out of its humanity.

Did it bother him, the kind of person his wife was? He was so used to it he hardly noticed anymore. (But he had screamed when she had shown him her collection of dead birds when they were eleven.) Her infidelity upset him more than her other hobbies.

"Let's go back inside and eat dinner." Rod continued, already looking away, "There's nothing to see here."

Bas shrugged. "Alright."

He and his older brother returned to their original journey up the cobblestone path towards the manor on the hill.

* * *

The table in the diningroom of the Black Manor had been elongated and divided into two tables in order to accommodate the ten male students in Dark Arts training and their foreign professor, the two female students who had been prevented from participation (one of whom who was not at the table), two more young women who were here with their husbands, as well as the usual occupants of the house, their visiting former classmate, the new Dark Lord (who was not at the table), and his two friends.

So, the dimly-lit diningroom was crowded that evening.

Regulus Black sat at what was basically the 'kids table' between blond Evan Rosier, polite enough to eat his Aunt Druella's burned cooking, and sullen Sirius Black, picking at the food on his plate with a fork instead of eating it, and ignoring the table's conversation. Across from Regulus sat Mordred Mulciber, Alvin Avery, and Amycus and Alecto Carrow.

Igor Karkaroff, who was indeed the son of their new professor, sat on the other side of Evan, eating quickly and quietly, and also not joining the table's conversation. Some stray crumbs stuck to his straggly teenage facial hair and the shirt of his black uniform.

"What was your cousin Bellatrix so mad about earlier?" Alvin wondered aloud as he ignored the vegetables on his plate.

Both Regulus and Evan shrugged. Sirius did not even glance up from his picked-at but uneaten meal.

"Women are hot when they're angry." Mordred commented. "Your cousin especially."

Regulus's dark eyes glared at him from across the table. This just caused Mordred to chuckle as he took a bite of chicken.

"I don't like her." Alecto grumbled, cutting the chicken on her plate with a knife and fork, "Because of her ratting me out, I had to spend the whole afternoon inside. There's nothing to do here, we're in the middle of nowhere."

Her brother Amycus nodded his brown-haired head sympathetically. "Yeah, she didn't need to tell the professor that you're a girl."

"You're barely a girl anyway." Mordred snickered under his breath at the short-haired redhead.

The knives of the Carrow siblings were quickly pointed at him until he apologized.

Regulus rolled his eyes at this, then looked past the teenagers sitting in front of him, over at the 'grownup table'.

Lucius Malfoy, his wife Narcissa, Tye Nott, his wife Theodora, and that Russian Antonin Dolohov sat eating. The two women were chatting with each other, as were Nott and Dolohov, but Lucius was quiet.

The five looked up from their dinner and conversation when four figures stood in the diningroom doorway, just arrived from the backyard of the manor. Uncle Cygnus, Professor Karkaroff, and Rodolphus and Rabastan Lestrange. They took seats at the 'grownup table'.

Igor Karkaroff immediately set down his utensils with a clink onto his now empty plate. Without a word to the teenagers in gray uniforms, he stood up from the 'kids table' and crossed the diningroom to sit with his father at the 'grownup table'. Professor Karkaroff's only acknowledgement of his son was a quick glance when the boy sat down next to him at the other table.

Regulus noticed that Sirius had finally looked up from his plate and was watching this interaction between parent and child.

"He'll never get his approval." Sirius muttered, "They've only been here a day and I can see that. Poor kid should stop trying."

_Kid?_ Regulus almost snorted. Sirius was younger than Igor, who could grow a miniature goatee when neither Black brother, nor anyone else at the 'kids table' could grow any facial hair at all.

Still, Regulus knew his older brother was really referring to his own forsaken attempts to get their parents' approval. Sirius had learned early on that Regulus was and always would be the favorite son, and he had given up trying to change that the moment he was sorted into Gryffindor House at Hogwarts.

Sirius returned to picking at the chicken and vegetables, staring down again at the plate on the table in front of him. Regulus glanced down at his almost-finished food, too, but did not pick up his fork.

Dirty-blond Mordred, brown-haired Alvin and golden-blond Evan were having a conversation he was not paying attention to. So were the Carrow siblings. Instead, he was listening to the conversation at the 'grownup table'.

"So the Dark Arts are taught as a class at Durmstrang?" Lucius Malfoy checked. It was odd to see him wearing the same gray uniform as everyone else. All the purebloods knew that the Malfoys liked to distinguish themselves by wearing white.

Professor Karkaroff and his son seated next to him both nodded their goateed heads.

"Several classes, actually." Professor Karkaroff specified.

"If I ever have a son I might send him there, then." Lucius considered from where he sat between Professor Karkaroff and his wife Narcissa.

Narcissa Malfoy's blue eyes widened. "All the way to Durmstrang?! _We_ will _not."_

She was sitting next to brunette Theodora Nott, who sat across from her older, bald husband Tye Nott.

"It can't be that far away." Lucius dismissed, glancing at his wife and then turning back to Karkaroff, "Where is it?"

"I am not allowed to divulge the school's location to anyone." Karkaroff stated. "Durmstrang policy."

"And is it 'Durmstrang policy' for professors to sleep with their students?" Rodolphus questioned from across the table. He was seated next to his brother Rabastan, who sat next to Uncle Cygnus, who sat next to Tye Nott and Antonin Dolohov.

"Excuse me?" Karkaroff sniffed in offense.

"The 'Dark Lord' used to teach at Durmstrang, didn't he?" Rodolphus recalled, "That's what my wife told me."

Uncle Cygnus' dark eyes widened in alarm, then narrowed in anger at his son-in-law. Lucius' silver blond eyebrow rose in interest.

Regulus did not understand why either of them reacted to Rodolphus' comment in those different ways. Probably just because Rodolphus had brought up an inappropriate conversation topic for the dinner table.

Rodolphus said no more on the subject. He looked down at his full plate of chicken and vegetables, which had become lukewarm while he was outside with his brother, father-in-law, and foreign professor.

Regulus did not understand why Rodolphus had made such a comment in the first place, either. Just to be rude, maybe? No wonder Bella was sleeping separately from her husband.

Regulus did not know Rodolphus all that much, and had never liked him all that much, either. Especially since, as Bella's husband, Rodolphus took much of Regulus' favorite cousin's attention away from him—of course, now the new Dark Lord was the one occupying her attention, though in a different way than her husband did.

Where were Bella and the Dark Lord now? Surely, he was not still punishing her for fighting Professor Karkaroff, was he? It had been a few hours now.

Regulus had been distracted the remainer of the lesson, after the Dark Lord had led his cousin Bella away. After the Dark Lord had given an order and Bella had actually obeyed. Regulus hoped Bella was okay…

A door creaking opening then shutting brought Regulus out of his thoughts. He glanced behind him at the source of the sound. The doorway to the diningroom was empty, but Regulus could hear footsteps further down the hall.

They were the light footsteps of a woman. And since the only other woman who was not in the diningroom was Aunt Druella, and she was in the kitchen, the footsteps had to belong to Bella.

Regulus stood up.

"Where are you going?" Sirius asked. His tone of voice was snark, but his gray eyes pleaded for his younger brother not to leave him alone at the table with Mordred, Alvin, Evan and the Carrow siblings.

"Toilet." Regulus lied, pushing in his chair, and starting away from the table.

Sirius could handle the Slytherins for a few minutes. Regulus had to talk to Bella. He had to make sure she was alright.

* * *

Regulus found Bella starting up the spiraling stairs from the dimly-lit foyer. He called out her name and she stopped, spinning on her black boots to face him.

"Hey, Reggie." She greeted. She forgot to smile for a second, but quickly remembered.

She was no longer wearing the gray uniform. She was wearing a different black dress, less revealing than the one she had worn while arriving late to Professor Karkaroff's lesson.

She looked nice. Long hair out. Red lips smiling. She certainly did not look like a student who had been punished.

Still, Bella seemed almost sad about something, though she was trying not to show it. Whatever it was she was sad about, though, Regulus had no guess.

Regulus crossed the hardwood floor of the foyer to the stairs where Bella stood. From the second to the bottom step she stood upon, she was taller than him again, like she had always been before, until his very recent growth-spurt.

Regulus gazed up at her. "You were gone all afternoon. Where did you go? What happened? What did the Dark Lord do? Was he angry at you?"

Bella chuckled. "Slow down, Reggie. He wasn't angry. We just… _talked._ Then we went out and he taught me something new. Well, _tried to,_ anyway."

"What did he teach you?" Regulus inquired, dark eyebrows raised in curiosity.

"It's a secret." Bella grinned, halfheartedly.

Regulus grimaced. He then scanned the foyer around them before looking back at his older cousin. "Where is the Dark Lord now?"

"Taking his pet snake for a walk." Bella informed.

Regulus furrowed his forehead in confusion. _"Really?"_ Maybe Bella was making a joke.

Bella nodded. "Yes. I know. It's funny, isn't it? And it's huge, the snake. Have you seen it?"

"…no, I haven't…" Regulus shook his head, short dark hair shaking, too. He glanced around the foyer again, nervous at the fact that there was apparently a giant snake living on the property he was staying at for the summer.

"Don't worry, Reggie, I won't let it eat you." Bella smirked at his nervousness, then adding, "…unless you deserve it."

Regulus knew she was joking, of course. Still, his face turned a little pink in embarrassment because he had shown fear in front of her. He glanced down at his shoes.

Suddenly, there was a hand tussling his hair.

Bella had taken advantage of the height provided her by the stairs to mess up her cousin's dark mop like she use to when he was younger.

It felt different to Regulus this time, though, even though it was the exact same gesture by the exact same fingers in the exact same hair as before. It made Regulus' body tense and his face turn even pinker.

Still, he was disappointed when it stopped. He looked back up at Bella.

"Why'd you attack Professor Karkaroff earlier, Bella?" he asked.

Bella's grin was gone, replaced by a grimace. "I was just mad that he didn't let me participate in the training."

Regulus nodded, accepting the answer. "Yeah, that really wasn't fair. But you're being trained by the Dark Lord himself, anyway, so you couldn't have been that upset about it, could you? And can't the Dark Lord just order Professor Karkaroff to teach you or something?"

"I suppose he could, but he must have his reasons not to." Bella shrugged, "Besides, I don't want to learn from that foreigner anyway." She crossed her arms.

That sounded a little like 'sour grapes' to Regulus, but he did not say so. Instead, he said "The Dark Lord must be really powerful. You did what he told you to, I've never seen you listen to anyone else that way, even your own parents. He seems kind of…scary, especially with those red eyes. Are you afraid of him?"

Bella laughed again. "Oh, Reggie, have you ever known me to be afraid of anyone? Anything?"

Regulus grimaced again. Of course his cousin was not afraid and now he looked stupid and afraid himself for even asking.

"Can I meet him?" Regulus asked, half because he was genuinely interesting in meeting the man who called himself the new Dark Lord and who was able to give Bellatrix Lestrange orders, and half because he wanted Bella to know he was brave enough to.

Bella hmmed. "Well, he's very busy, lots of important things to do—including teaching me, of course. But I'll ask him, for you, Reggie, only because you're my favorite cousin."

She smiled again. And there was her hand tussling Regulus' hair again, petting him like she would pet a puppy.

Bella still must have seen him as a little boy, Regulus reminded himself, a little puppy to be petted and played with. But he did not feel like a little boy anymore.

"Thanks, Bella." Regulus smiled back, not only for her agreeing to ask the Dark Lord to meet him, but also for the hand in his dark hair.

* * *

Rodolphus ate quickly, leaving his younger brother and the others in the diningroom to climb the spiraling Black Manor stairs up to the third floor. Instead of entering the bedroom that had once been the childhood bedroom of Andromeda Black and was now a makeshift dormitory for the Dark Arts students, he veered towards his wife Bella's childhood bedroom.

He did not knock before entering. Bella was his wife, after all. He just turned the knob and pushed open the door.

Thankfully, Bella was alone. She was standing in front of the full-size mirror between the dresser, its drawers open to reveal black clothing that had been rifled through earlier in search of an outfit, and her bookshelf of creepy dolls instead of books.

She did not turn to face Rod when she heard him come in. Instead, her reflection's dark eyes met the green eyes of her husband.

"Oh, hello, Rod." She said. Her voice attempted to sound neutral but instead sounded smug.

Rod had been ignoring Bella these past few days and now he was once again at her door. She never came to him first after a fight. He was always the one to attempt diplomacy.

Rod glanced away from her reflection and her back, long dark hair flowing down it. He looked over at her twin-size bed, its covers messy, confirming his suspicions about the so-called 'punishment' Bella had received from the so-called Dark Lord.

"Hoping for someone else?" Rod returned, remaining in the open doorway.

Bella's reflection rolled her eyes.

Why was Bella staring at herself in the mirror, anyway? She had always been vain, but even she usually did not waste more than a few minutes admiring her own image.

And, this did not look like admiration. The expression on Bella's pretty face looked more like dissatisfaction. She was dissatisfied with herself… _but why?_

"How do you think I'll look when I'm old?" Bella wondered aloud, "Hopefully not like my mother. But if I do, will you still find me beautiful with wrinkles on my face?"

Rod raised a brown eyebrow in confusion. "…uh, why do you ask?" He did not answer her question because he did not want to give the answer she did not want.

"No reason." Bella shrugged, then changing the subject, "How was the lesson today?"

"Before or after you interrupted it?" Rod sniffed, "What was that about, Bella?"

"Nothing." Bella dismissed.

Now she was the one to glance away. Her reflection's eyes looked down at her boots, her eyes looking down at her reflection's boots.

"Oh, it was something, Bella." Rod countered, "And I think I know what it is. Your parents confronted you, didn't they? They don't like it that you're sleeping with a man who's not your husband, who's twice your age, who's not a pureblood."

Now Bella turned around to face him. Her dark eyes glared a warning.

Rod could tell by the disturbed and angered look on her face that his guess was correct.

"Did my parents tell you that?" Bella asked.

"They didn't have to." Rod responded, "I can just tell. I'm your husband. We've known each other half our lives. Don't forget that."

"You mean don't forget _you."_ Bella corrected. Yes, he knew her well, but _she_ knew _him_ well, too.

"You'll get bored of him." Rod predicted, "He might be the 'Dark Lord' but you'll get bored. You always do." ...and when she did, she would come back to him. She always did (though she never admitted it).

Rodolphus was the only man Bellatrix had not lost complete interest in after a few months, like a child playing with different new toys each day but sleeping with the same old teddybear each night.

"He's different than the others." Bella countered, "Different than _you."_

She said this matter-of-factly, as far as Rod could tell. She was not even trying to make her words hurt her husband, just state what she objectively believed to be true.

"Then _he'll_ get bored of _you."_ Rod amended.

This statement Bella's eyes to widen for just the briefest moment, as if she had never even considered the possibility that any man would ever get bored of her. Typical Bella.

Rod continued, "So I don't care that you're sleeping with him."

That was a lie, of course. But Rod did not want Bella to know that her infidelity bothered him as much as it did. Because, if she knew, it might just motivate her to be even more unfaithful to him, the contrary person that she was.

Sure, Rod had affairs, too. But they were only failed attempts at revenge against Bella for hers, and most recently, to produce an heir when Rod realized that Bella would not change her mind about spurning motherhood.

"Yes you do." Bella dismissed. She knew the truth as well as he did.

"I've never cared about any of your affairs, before or after we got married." Rod insisted, anyway, "I just care that you _lied_ about it. You told me you weren't and you were—"

"I wasn't!" Bella interrupted again, "When I told you I wasn't sleeping with the Dark Lord I was telling the truth. It wasn't until after you saw him kiss me that we did. And today was only the second time."

Rod blinked his green eyes in surprise. "Really?"

"I wouldn't bother to lie, you know that, Rod." Bella assured, "I've never lied to you before. After all, we're married, we shouldn't have secrets, should we?" She was smirking but there was some hidden sincerity in her tone and her words.

It had always been this way between them. Bella would have her affairs, but she would come home to her husband and tell him all about them. Not to gloat and make him jealous—at least not entirely—but just the way she would have told her female friends (if she had any).

Rod nodded. "No, we shouldn't."

Bella's smirk widened. "So what else do you want to know, Roddy? Which one of you is bigger? Better in bed? Lasts the longest?"

Rod was the one rolling his eyes now. "Maybe you should keep _some_ secrets."

Bella laughed and turned away from him, back towards the mirror. Though her reflection still glanced at him occasionally, Bella once again focused on her image, her smile fading back into dissatisfaction again.

Rod stared at Bella's reflection in the mirror, too. He could not look away.

Bella was beautiful, that was undeniable and unignorable.

If she was not, he would not have married her and remained married to her. If she was not, he would not tolerate her affairs. If she was not, he would not love her despite everything—the infidelity, the cruelty, the borderline _insanity_ (there was no other word to describe the edge Bella teetered on).

A beautiful woman could get away with anything.

Bella knew this. It had been one of the first things she had learned upon entering puberty and Rod had watched her learn it, practice it, master it. And Rod saw right through it and fell victim to it, anyway.

"Do you ever wonder what it would be like to be dead?" Bella mused, more to her own reflection than to her husband, "To die?"

"It's something I try not to think about." Rod replied, "But I don't think it would be like anything. It would be a total absence of anything. Feeling, thinking, being…"

Bella's sudden interest in the subject surprised Rod. She had never been the most philosophical person. And despite her love of causing death (and not just to animals, anymore, like when they were at Hogwarts), she never considered being dead herself—at least not that Rod knew of.

"If death is just nothing, then why is it so scary?" Bella asked, more quietly. She was fully asking her own reflection, now, probably forgetting her husband was right there.

And so Rod did not bother to answer. He stood in the doorway watching Bella and her reflection have their conversation.

"What was that… _thing_ you put in the shed?" Rod finally questioned, after a few quiet moments, "It looked like a muggle but it wasn't, was it?"

Bella's reflection just stared at him. The look in her dark eyes told him to leave her alone.

* * *

The adolescent stag had not yet grown full size antlers. Despite this, he dared to challenge the adult stag with larger and more powerful horns.

They eyed each other from across the clearing in the woods, bowed their heads as if in respect, and then rushed, heads first, across the flattened dead leaves and dead grass, partially-formed antlers crashing into each other.

Maybe there were doe watching from between the brown trunks of the surrounding trees, maybe not. Either way, it was their instinct to compete.

The sun set into the dark blue sky behind the canopy of green leaves above. It was twilight, the time the deer came out of to forage, safe from humans and predators.

…or not.

There were eyes watching from between the brown trunks of the surrounding trees. But they did not belong to fellow deer.

The older and the younger stag, so distracted by their competition, did not notice they were being watched until it was too late. There was no victor in their fight, a green blast of light hit them both and they fell. Defeated by the third, more powerful creature.

A human.

Well, sort of. The man once was fully human but not anymore. His skin had turned white and his eyes had turned red.

But was he _less_ than human, now? Or _more_ than?

_More than, of course._ Lord Voldemort decided as he stepped into the clearing in the small woods beside the overgrown cornfield.

Nagini, the large snake, followed, slithering across the dead leaves and grass, towards the two stag corpses, more quickly than Voldemort walked. She did not wait for his signal to lunge at the smaller, mouth open.

She swallowed the smaller deer first, adolescent antlers and all.

It was magic how quickly she could consume, swallow and digest the animal. While regular snakes took hours to swallow prey whole and then months to digest, Nagini devoured the deer in seconds and would be hungry again in minutes, room in her stomach for the next deer, which would be dissolved along with the other by the next day. She ate like a mammal.

Nagini then turned towards the adult stag, opening her mouth again. But before she could swallow that one too, she was interrupted.

"Wait." Voldemort said in parseltongue.

Nagini closed her mouth, stopping in front of the remaining dead stag. She glanced over at Voldemort and saw him raise his wand.

A cut of meat from the deer sliced off of its leg. It rose and floated through the night air towards Voldemort.

He ate it raw.

Nagini would have blinked in shock if she had eyelids.

Voldemort saw the snake's surprise. He waited until he had chewed and swallowed before explaining. "I haven't been able to eat like a human being in years. I can only eat food raw now and only a few times a month."

"You eat like a reptile." Nagini commented.

Voldemort scowled.

Reptiles were _animals._ He was _not_ an animal. He was more than an animal, more than a human. More than a muggle and even more than a wizard. He was a god…

_...Almost._ Perhaps, if he made another horcrux, it would remove his need to eat completely and finalize the ascendance.

"Do they know?" Nagini asked. She meant the purebloods back at the Black Manor.

"Of course not." Voldemort dismissed, "They wouldn't understand."

Still, at least one of them would eventually notice he never ate and get suspicious as to why. Bella was already starting to wonder.

"And if one of them follows you and sees you?" Nagini followed-up.

"I would erase their memory." Voldemort replied.

"Even the woman?" Nagini checked. She meant Bella.

Nagini knew Bella's name, but would not say it. Nagini had earlier expressed her disapproval at the pureblood witch debasing herself with a halfblood and reminded Voldemort exactly what his ancestor Salazar Slytherin would have thought about that.

"Especially her." Voldemort confirmed. The last thing he wanted was for Bella to see him killing a deer and eating its raw flesh in the woods at night. She was a strange young woman but even she would probably be disturbed by that.

Voldemort had to keep Bella loyal to him. It was why _he_ was debasing _himself_ with her.

There was no one else Voldemort could trust in the pureblood community at the moment. Cygnus and Druella Black wanted him off their property and away from their daughter, Abraxas Malfoy was mostly likely plotting to doublecross him to further his political career, and the Lestrange brothers only acquiesced to his leadership because their father had coerced them to as a ploy against Abraxas Malfoy.

Bella was the only one who followed him simply because she believed in him and his mission of Pureblood Supremacy (and also because she was attracted to him).

She was his sole entry to Pureblood Society and the one person to take him and his mission seriously at this point in time. And so, he had to accommodate her desire.

…but as soon as Voldemort was able to gain favor for himself and his cause from the purebloods as a whole, he would no longer have to.

Bella would resist this, of course, but she would have to accept it if she wanted to continue learning the Dark Arts from him and eventually become a soldier for the cause of Pureblood Supremacy. She would have to seek comfort with her husband or any one of the men pining after her (who she did not want simply because they did that).

Voldemort turned away from the live snake and the dead deer.

"You can finish the rest." He said as he walked away, back towards the small woods, the cornfield and the Black Manor.

Nagini opened her mouth wide and lunged towards the larger stag, swallowing it whole.

* * *

The next morning the male students in gray uniforms (and Igor in black) lined up on the grass of the Black Manor's backyard again. But this time there were two different lines. The lines faced each other; one set of students with their backs to the man, the other set of students with their backs to the guesthouse.

The sun was rising now but most of the sky was still dark. It was early, the air was chilly and only the Karkaroff father and son were not yawning and goosebumped

Black-uniformed Professor Karkaroff stood at the front of both lines of boys, hands and wand clasped behind his back, like schoolmaster with a ruler or a military general with a baton. "Yesterday you learned three new spells of martial magic. _Brydda_ , the stabbing spell, _Skera,_ the cutting spell, and _Hrata_ , the tripping spell. Today you will apply them. In battle against each other."

The students tensed.

Regulus stood between Sirius and Evan, across from Alvin. He and Alvin locked widened eyes nervously, guessing that they would soon have to fight each other.

Sirius and Mordred, facing each other, were already drawing their wands with clenched fists, glaring and grinning in anticipation at the same time.

Evan faced Igor. Evan flipped his shaggy blond hair out of his blue eyes while Igor scratched at his scraggly goatee.

Rodolphus faced Amycus—which really was not fair, in Regulus' opinion. Rodolphus was as old as Bella was, twenty-five, and Amycus was only sixteen. This further proved to Regulus that Bella deserved a better husband than Rodolphus (even though Professor Karkaroff had told them all where to stand in line).

Rodolphus' brother Rabastan faced Lucius. Neither of them looked pleased at the prospect of fighting each other, or anyone for that matter.

Their facial expressions matched the nervous ones on Regulus' and Alvin's faces.

Alvin's hand shot up towards the blue and orange sky. "Professor Karkaroff? How is this safe?"

Professor Karkaroff eyed him. "War is not 'safe' and war is what I am preparing you for. Still, none of you are skilled enough yet to seriously harm one another. And, if anyone is injured, we have young women here to practice their healing spells. Healing is the only place for a woman on the battlefield."

He gestured with his free hand at stone fountain, its bird of prey spraying water from its beak like a dragon breathing fire.

There Narcissa, Theodora and Alecto stood. A blonde, a brunette and a redhead.

Their outfits had been turned into gray uniforms, too—but with skirts instead of trousers. This clearly bothered Alecto much more than the other two, as she was constantly adjusting it in discomfort.

Regulus glanced at the young women. He had never seen tomboy Alecto Carrow wear a skirt before. Regulus then glanced over at Amycus, who looked just as surprised as the others to see his own sister in a skirt—and just as disgusted by it as she was.

Regulus wished Bella was here. He did not think she had any skill with healing spells, as far as he knew, but if she would be able to protect him from getting hurt in the first place.

But then, Regulus thought, maybe he did not want Bella protecting him like he was a little kid anymore. And, maybe if he defeated someone else in a duel Bella would be proud of him, and see him as a man.

Again, Regulus wished Bella was here.

He glanced over at the Black Manor. First, at the third floor, even though Bella did not have a window overlooking the back lawn. Then, at the second floor. The curtain was drawn in the window that the new Dark Lord had looked out of yesterday.

Sighing, Regulus looked back at Alvin and drew his wand. Alvin lowered his raised hand and drew his wand. They nodded at each other in understanding and acceptance.

"Begin." Professor Karkaroff said.

* * *

The sun had completely risen by the time five of the ten gray-uniform students lay on the grass lawn in pain and defeat. Their uniforms and bodies were sliced, stained with dirt and blood. Kneeling beside them were the gray-uniformed girls and their healing spells.

Alecto crouched beside her brother Amycus in an unladylike manner that showed that she did not know (or care) how to sit properly in a skirt, and so showed her underwear. She was tracing her wand over the cuts on Amycus' chest while he winced in pain.

She was not good at healing spells. She was a fighter not a nurse.

Alecto and Amycus both glared over at Rodolphus Lestrange who was healing his brother Rabastan, who had lost to Lucius Malfoy. Rodolphus' back was turned so he did not see the Carrow siblings' glares.

Rodolphus was slightly better at healing spells than Alecto. Rabastan groaned more from exhaustion than pain as a stab wound in his arm closed, the puncture remaining in the gray fabric of the uniform.

Lucius glanced at his defeated opponent with haughty silver eyes, before turning his silverblond head to watch his wife, Narcissa, who was healing her cousin Evan Rosier.

Narcissa and Evan had the same golden blond hair. But Evan's shaggy hair had been sliced by a spell, now it no longer fell over his eyes.

"Make it grow back first." Evan requested, sprawled on the grass, looking up at his older cousin and the cloudy sky, "Before you do anything else, make my hair grow back."

Narcissa eyed the bleeding stabs and cuts in her younger cousin that he was ignoring in favor of his hair. She then looked up at his face, contorted in pain but pleading for his poor blond locks.

Sighing, Narcissa flicked her wand.

Evan's hair grew back to its original boyband style. He grinned. "Thanks."

Narcissa rolled her blue eyes before waving her wand over the stabs and cuts actually harming him. She had only fixed his hair first because she knew that her husband Lucius would have probably made the exact same request had _his_ blond hair been damaged.

Lucius nodded in approval as he watched. Igor Karkaroff, the sole student in a black uniform, also watched the student in the gray uniform he had defeated get healed.

Every so often he would glance over at their professor Ingvar Karkaroff, who was watching all the students from afar, for any sign of congratulation from his father that he had won the duel. There was none. Professor Karkaroff was stone-faced as usual.

His cold eyes glanced at his son, briefly, before looking over at Alvin Avery and Mordred Mulciber, who lay on the mud and grass of the backyard.

Theodora Nott was healing an unconscious Mordred, who was far more injured than Alvin.

Of all the students, Sirius Black had been the only one not to go easy on his opponent.

Karkaroff appreciated that.

Regulus Black did not. Mordred was a fellow Slytherin classmate and a friend. Regulus did not like how much his older brother Sirius had harmed Mordred, who had passed out from pain.

It was one thing for Sirius and his Gryffindor friends to have an ongoing rivalry against Mordred and his Slytherin friends, to shoot harmless jinxes at each other or play harmless pranks on one another in the hallways of Hogwarts. It was another thing entirely to practically kill someone.

Regulus' dark eyes glared at Sirius, who stood smirking down at the unconscious Mordred. Alvin, who Regulus had defeated (without seriously injuring), also glared at Sirius from where he lay on the grass, waiting for Theodora to heal his minor wounds after Mordred was safe.

Regulus kneeled beside Alvin, trying his best to help his other friend, though not well because he was no healer, either, and did not have the talent for it.

"Your brother's crazy." Alvin spat, turning his brown-haired head to look at Regulus kneeling beside him.

"I know." Regulus agreed, still glaring at the smirking and standing Sirius.

Sirius finally noticed Regulus' glare. The dark-haired boy turned gray eyes towards his younger brother.

"What?" he snapped.

Regulus just looked away, over at the bleeding body of Mordred Mulciber. The stabs and cuts slowly stopped bleeding and closed as Theodora waved her wand over them.

The sad, scared and accusing look on Regulus' face made Sirius tense. He looked at Mordred again, then down at his shoes, finally regretting what he had done.

* * *

Voldemort, Bella, and the muggle inferi had returned to the patch of flattened tallgrass and cornstalks in the overgrown field that stretched for miles between the Black Manor and the small muggle village, just like the gray sky stretched for miles above. It was almost noon.

"Why are we out here, anyway?" Bella complained, "I'm still scared of dying, nothing's changed. There's no point in this."

Her tone of voice was bitter and worse, lacking respect. She did not even say 'my lord'. This bothered Voldemort.

Bella should not be talking to him like she talked to her husband, parents and everyone else. Had she already forgotten who he was and who he would be? Did she think that because she had slept with him that she knew him and could treat him like all the other men she had slept with? Or was she just in a sour mood about being unable to create inferi herself and taking it out on whoever was available?

Whatever it was, she would have already been punished for if this were decades ago, Durmstrang where all the students feared their Professor Marvolo or Hogwarts where all the Slytherins feared their fellow student Tom Riddle. But this was 1977 where Voldemort was still a halfblood stranger in a community of purebloods.

"So why bother with the inferi?" Bella continued, kicking at a dried and dead fallen cornstalk, "If I kill it, I won't be able to revive it. I can't do necromancy as long as I'm afraid of death."

She eyed the zombie-like creature with scorn, as if blaming instead of herself for her inability to raise it from the dead. It had been Voldemort who had created the inferi that they had locked in the shed, yesterday, and brought out again now.

The inferi looked almost the same as it did the day before, but had gotten slightly skinnier and more shriveled, its muggle clothing baggy (which it soon would no longer need). It would take weeks for the inferi's body to become a skeleton covered only by a thin layer of dull gray skin, and its face to dissolve into a featureless skull covered by the same mask of dull gray.

Voldemort knew this. He had seen it happen before and he had made it happen before, back when he was learning dark magic from Idis Edda in Northern Europe.

"You're not reviving it." Voldemort said, "You're _battling_ it."

"That should be easy." Bella scoffed.

Indeed, the muggle inferi looked docile and weak, its empty eyes staring at nothing and its body hanging limp, barely standing. But that would change.

Voldemort smirked at Bella's comment before lifting his wand.

Suddenly, the inferi sprung towards Bella with speed and strength something of its size should have been incapable of. Its arms were outstretched and its mouth was open as if it wanted to eat her.

Bella cried out in shock and alarm, almost falling backwards away from it. Quickly, she steadied herself and readied her wand, pointing it at the inferi.

A green beam of light blasted Inferi. This did not phase it.

Bella blinked in surprise and confusion. She glanced over at Voldemort, wordlessly requesting an answer as to why the Killing Curse had not killed the reanimated corpse.

Voldemort just watched, silently, a hint of the earlier smirk remaining.

Bella had to look away from him when Inferi lunged at her again, pushing her to the muddy ground. Another blast of light pushed Inferi off of Bella and into a row of tall cornstalks, knocking them over.

Bella rose and the Inferi rose, both shorter than the tall grass and cornstalks around them.

As Bella readied herself and her wand for the next Inferi attack, Voldemort wondered how long it would take her to realize how to defeat the inferi.

Inferi sprinted away from the fallen stalks towards Bella, who shot what was probably ever hex and curse she knew at it. Though these spells damaged Inferi's body, they did not deter it from attacking. Despite superficial cuts and even deeper wounds, Inferi kept rushing towards Bella.

She jumped out of the way to avoid it. It turned and started towards her again.

"What do I do?!" Bella screamed, clearly getting nervous now.

"I thought you said this would be easy for you, Bella." Voldemort taunted.

He was not going to just give her the answer. She had to learn it for herself. (Plus, he was still annoyed by her earlier complaining tone of voice.)

Bella turned to glare at him, momentarily, before looking back at Inferi who was inches from her now. She raised her wand but it was too late. Inferi tackled her to the ground, jaw snapping and hands grabbing at her frightened face.

With her free hand and her wand hand, Bella pushed Inferi with all her strength to keep its teeth from biting her and its disproportional strength from crushing her. She glanced over at Voldemort again, this time pleadingly.

"My lord, please!" Bella called, "Get it off me!"

Now. There was some respect—though only desperation induced.

Voldemort let Bella struggle with the inferi for a few more minutes before he finally waved his wand. Immediately, Inferi let go of Bella, stood up and stood still, weak and docile again.

Slowly and cautiously, Bella stood up, too. As she did, her dark eyes watched the inferi, waiting for it to jump and attack her again. It did not move.

"Thank you." Bella said, after she was sure the inferi (and Voldemort) was not trying to trick her. She turned to face Voldemort, asking "How do you destroy it?"

"You can't figure it out?" He tested.

Bella was impulsive and imbalanced but not stupid. Even if she had no prior knowledge of inferi, and no hypotheses of how to beat them, she should have been able to come to the correct conclusion simply process of elimination.

She had tried all sorts of spells on the inferi already. Except fire. She should have thought of that by now.

Bella's dark eyes squinted into Voldemort's red ones. He realized she was attempting to look into his mind. Attempting and failing.

"Legilimency is cheating, Bella." Voldemort chided.

Bella groaned in defeat but then smiled, "Don't you want me to fight dirty? We're going to have a war, after all. Don't you want me to do whatever it takes to win?"

Voldemort appreciated the sentiment but knew Bella was only saying that to distract from the fact that she was not able to figure out how to destroy the reanimated muggle corpse.

"I want you to do whatever it takes to defeat the inferi." Voldemort returned. "And we'll stay out here as long as it takes for you to figure out how to."

Bella grimaced. She watched Voldemort wave his wand and Inferi spring into attack again.

* * *

The students who had lost their duels were given the remainder of the day to rest. The students who had won were given only an hour.

The midday sun peaked out from behind the gray clouds in the sky as the five young men lined up, single file, on the grass of the Black Manor back lawn again. Their stomachs growled—the five losers were inside eating lunch while they were forced to be out here, hungry and tired, like they were being punished for winning.

Ingvar Karkaroff strode back and forth in front of the line.

"Congratulations, you five boys won the first round." He addressed, "But now, we must determine the final winners."

Rodolphus looked at Karkaroff, then at the other students in line with him. Igor Karkaroff, Regulus and Sirius Black, Lucius Malfoy. He furrowed his forehead.

"There aren't enough of us for a second round." Rod said.

Karkaroff stopped his back and forth stride directly in front of Rod. "Yes there are. One of you will duel me. Any volunteers?"

Rod's green eyes immediately stared down at the green grass beneath his shoes.

He had no desire to fight this military-esque professor from Durmstrang and knew that if he did it would probably a painful and embarrassing experience, similar to when he had been made foolish enough by jealously and by Bella to challenge Lord Voldemort.

In his peripheral vision, Rod saw that none of the others in gray uniforms, nor Igor in black like his father, had yet volunteered to fight their professor, either.

"You are all cowards." Karkaroff growled, "The Dark Lord will be disappointed in all of you."

Rod had to stop himself from snorting at that. Why should he care if the so-called Dark Lord was disappointed in him? The two men already did not like or trust each other.

And why would _anyone_ care? As far as the students learning the Dark Arts this summer, and their parents, knew Lord Voldemort was just a halfblood who had made vague promises of Pureblood Supremacy without any specific proof of how he would deliver them.

Abraxas Malfoy was the reason they were all here. He had been the one to approve the camp and encourage pureblood parents to send their pureblood sons. Disappointing _him_ might threaten these students—if they understood the power that Abraxas Malfoy's money and connections had over their parents.

But disappointing the 'Dark Lord'? No. Nobody would care. _Would they?_

A hand shot up towards the gray sky. Rod and the other three students stared in shock, looking over to see Regulus Black raising his hand.

"I'll do it." Regulus declared.

Ingvar Karkaroff smiled, just a little.

This surprised Rod. He had never seen the professor smile before (though it had only been two days). He eyed Igor Karkaroff. From the surprised look on Igor's goateed face, Rod wondered if the boy had ever seen his father smile before, either.

"Good boy." Karkaroff said, "I will tell the Dark Lord that you were the only one brave enough to volunteer."

Now Regulus was smiling, both proudly and nervously.

He glanced over at the other students for signs of approval or jealously. Igor was wide-eyed, shaking his head in a warning to Regulus. Regulus' smile fell but it was too late to rescind his offer to fight.

Rod wondered what had motivated Regulus to volunteer. Did Regulus really want to earn the favor of a man he had probably never even had a conversation with?

Or was there another reason? Did Regulus want to impress someone else, like his brother Sirius standing beside him…or his older cousin Bella?

_Probably Bella_ , Rod thought. She and Regulus had always been close. Regulus had been the ringboy at Bellatrix and Rodolphus' wedding seven years ago, though that was back when Regulus was only seven or eight years old.

"The rest of you," Ingvar Karkaroff continued, "choose your opponents."

The four remaining students glanced at each other from where they stood in line beside one another. Sirius and Igor shrugged, turning towards each other.

Rod turned to Lucius Malfoy, who he was sure he could defeat because he had done it before when they were at Hogwarts. Their fathers had once been best friends but were now enemies. And most importantly, Lucius had recently injured Rod's brother Rabastan earlier than day. It was time for revenge.

Lucius' silver eyes widened, slightly, as he realized Rod's intentions and that Rod was not weak like Bas.

"Let's be civil about this, Rodolphus." Lucius said.

"Of course." Rod smiled, raising his wand.

* * *

Professor Karkaroff was not obviously fighting with his full abilities and even so Regulus regretted agreeing to duel him before he had even cast the first spell.

Regulus had thought that volunteering to fight would impress Professor Karkaroff, the Dark Lord and most importantly Bella, who might finally see him as a man instead of her baby cousin. But what Regulus had not considered was that losing the fight would make him look weak and stupid.

He was considering that now.

A stabbing spell blasted from Professor Karkaroff's wand towards him. He jumped out of its way, losing his balance and tumbling down onto the grass—no he had not lost his balance, it had been a tripping spell that had tripped.

Regulus crashed into Rodolphus as he fell, causing Rodolphus to fall, too. Landing on the grass, they both quickly scrambled to their feet, pushing each other out of the way.

"Watch it, kid." Rodolphus warned, green eyes glaring.

"You watch it." Regulus retorted, dark eyes glaring back.

The young man and the teenager turned their wands towards each other. This allowed both their opponents to strike them with hexes while they were distracted.

Regulus and Rodolphus cried out in shock and pain as they were sliced both with the cutting spell _skera_ by Professor Karkaroff and Lucius Malfoy, respectively. Regulus grabbed his wand arm with his free hand, Rodolphus grabbed his side. Blood stained both their gray uniforms.

They spun away from each other to face their attackers.

"Do not let yourself get distracted." Professor Karkaroff told Regulus. He flicked his wand, another spell shooting towards Regulus.

Regulus blinked in surprise when the spell healed his wound rather than caused more damage.

Igor Karkaroff blinked in surprise, too, when he noticed this. Enough surprise to lower his wand as he fought Sirius Black, and turn to gape at his father healing a student.

This allowed Sirius to blast a spell at Igor, knocking him down while he was distracted. Igor shouted as he fell forward, smacking the grassy ground face first.

Professor Karkaroff scowled. "Pathetic! You let yourself get distracted! Get back up, boy!"

Igor continued to lay on the lawn face down. Regulus could not tell whether Igor was unable or unwilling to face his disappointed father, or both.

Sirius lowered his wand, gray eyes widening in regret. He rushed to Igor's side, bending down next to the older boy, who glanced up at him gratefully.

"Do _not_ help him." Professor Karkaroff warned.

"Why are you being so hard on him?" Sirius demanded, "He's your own son!"

"He is a student." Professor Karkaroff declared, "I will not treat him any differently than the rest of you—"

"You're treating him worse!" Sirius interrupted to exclaim.

He reached to put a hand on the back of Igor's shoulder, despite the order not to aid him. A beam of light from Professor Karkaroff's wand instantly struck both Sirius' hand and Igor's shoulder. Both boys yelped.

Sirius was glaring at Professor Karkaroff now as he rose, wand rising as well. He pointed it at the angry teacher.

As soon as he did, though, his wand was knocked out of his hand by a disarming spell from Professor Karkaroff. His wand soared through the air and landed in the rushing water of the stone bird fountain with a splash. Sirius glanced over at it before continuing to glare at Karkaroff.

"I do not tolerate disrespect." Karkaroff declared, wand still raised, "It must be punished." But instead of another spell, he turned to look at Regulus again, _"You,"_ he said, "you will teach your fellow student a lesson."

Regulus gasped. "No, sir! I can't! He's my brother!"

"That is why it has to be you." Professor Karkaroff insisted, "There can be no favoritism. No familial loyalties. You are all soldiers. He is no more your brother than any of these other boys."

He gestured at Rodolphus and Lucius, who had stopped fighting in order to watch the scene occurring.

Regulus shook his head of dark hair. "I can't, professor, I can't. I'm sorry—"

"Just do it, Reg." Sirius said, looking his younger brother in the eyes.

Everyone stared at Regulus for a long, silent and tense moment.

Unable to hold eye-contact with his older brother he stared down at his shoes. Finally, he sighed.

"…fine." He said, almost in a whisper. He lifted his wand, aiming it at Sirius.

* * *

Voldemort had assumed the backyard of the Black Manor would be empty again that evening, like it had the evening before. Everyone else, except for him, Bella and the inferi, was inside eating dinner.

Yes. It had taken until dinnertime for Bella to figure out that fire was the only way to defeat an inferi. _Hours._ The sun was starting to set now, the sky turning dark.

Had Bella really been one of Professor Slughorn's best students? Voldemort wondered. Or had Slughorn just recommended a student he would not miss if she died trying to figure out how to stop an inferi from killing her.

Bella was trudging a little bit behind Voldemort's quicker pace, exhausted from a day of fighting the inferi. Her black dress was stained with mud and burn marks, and her black hair was a mess. Yet, between tired exhales and inhales, she was smiling in satisfaction at finally figuring it out.

Bella looked better than the muggle inferi, though. Inferi's once human skin was charred black. This particular one would probably never turn gray, but now it was already featureless, its face burned beyond recognition and all its hair gone.

It was trudging, too, directed by Voldemort's wand.

The three cut across the grass, instead of using the cobblestone path, finding the restored shed between the fountain and the newly-made guesthouse.

Huffing, Bella jogged ahead to open its wooden door. As soon as she did, she, Voldemort and the muggle inferi found not an empty shed but a pale, dark-haired teenager sitting alone in dark.

He glanced up at them in surprise and confusion. There was a hint of tears in his dark eyes. He quickly looked down at his knees, pulled up to his chest, to hide his face from her.

"…Reggie…" Bella identified, "What's wrong?"

"He made me hurt him." The boy mumbled into his knees, not looking up at her, "Professor Karkaroff made me punish my brother."

Bella paused. She glanced back at Voldemort standing behind her, the burned inferi idling beside him. The boy had not yet noticed that the two others were there, thinking it was only Bella.

Voldemort gave her a look with his red eyes that told her to hurry up. If Bella wanted to have a heartfelt conversation with the boy, she would have to do it somewhere else—preferably far away from him.

Bella nodded, then turned back to the boy. "I'm sure Gryffindor deserved it."

This did not comfort the boy. But it did make him look at her again, dark and teary glaring.

_Now_ he noticed that Bella was not the only one in the open doorway to the restored shed. Quickly, he wiped his eyes and jumped up from the dirt floor.

The boy looked at Bella, then at Voldemort, but his wide eyes gaped at the burned muggle inferi. "What _is_ that thing?!" He slowly backed away from it, deeper into the small wooden shed.

"This is an inferi, Reggie." Bella declared, matter-of-factly.

"A what?" the boy sputtered.

"A reanimated corpse." Bella explained, "The only way to defeat them is with fire. Which I did."

The boy nodded, slowly, in dubious acceptance. He managed to look away from the zombie-like creature, back over at Voldemort.

"You're him." The boy identified, "You're the Dark Lord." There was fear in his tone of voice, but also respect.

Voldemort almost smiled at this. Finally, someone else other than Bella was showing him the proper reverence, and _this_ respect was not tinged with sexual desire like hers was.

Bella spoke before Voldemort was even able to open his mouth.

"My lord, this is my youngest cousin, Regulus Arcturus Black." she told him, then turning to the boy, "Reggie, this is the Dark Lord Voldemort."

The boy, apparently named Regulus, stepped forward eagerly, "It is an honor to meet you." he closed his eyes for a moment, as if trying to remember practiced words, "My parents and their friends have been complaining for years but you're the first person to actually stand up and do something. I really admire that and feel privileged to be a part of it."

Voldemort actually did smile at this.

He now remembered why children made the best soldiers. He may never get the full obedience and respect of his former classmates, but their children…their children would obey and respect him, without question and ulterior motive, like their parents had.

Voldemort had not wanted to teach anyone but Bella this summer, recalling how difficult teenagers were from his years as professor at Durmstrang, but now he was starting to reconsider. There were a few rebels at Durmstrang (who usually were punished into compliance or, in rarer cases, expelled) but most students simply respected teachers because they were teachers.

"Good." Voldemort said, "Put that enthusiasm towards becoming an effective soldier."

Regulus nodded enthusiastically. "Yes, sir, my lord, I will, sir." This time his words rushed out all once, unprepared.

Bella snickered behind a hand she covered her mouth with. She lowered her hand, then used it to wave Regulus away, "Run along Reggie, you're dinner's getting cold."

Regulus nodded quickly at her. She stepped aside from the doorway, to allow him to hurry out of the shed past her, Voldemort, and the inferi.

Bella and Voldemort turned to watch him jog up the grassy hill towards the Black Manor. When he was gone, they locked the burned muggle inferi in the shed.


	12. Chapter 12

**(1977)**

Bella's childhood bedroom on the third floor of Black Manor was packed into boxes when she stepped through the open doorway. One box contained all her clothing that had been removed from her now empty dresser, which her mother Druella was in the process of transfiguring into a bed.

Bella folded her arms and furrowed her brow. "What are you doing, mother?"

Druella lowered her wand and turned to face her daughter. "The professor from Durmstrang, Karkaroff, asked me to do this. He said there was a competition between the boys today and that the winners should get their own room."

She gestured at the bed that had only moments before been a dresser, then at Bella's bed now missing its sheets and pillows, and finally at a third bed. Bella realized this bed had once been her bookshelf.

Beside it were two boxes. One of books, the other of dolls.

"Where will I sleep?" Bella questioned, narrowing her dark eyes in the dimly-lit room.

"You and your husband do have a house in London." Druella reminded.

Oh, so that was why she had agreed to the Durmstrang professor's request. She wanted Bella out of the house so she could not have her affair here, in front of all the other purebloods.

"I'm not leaving." Bella refused, then smirking, "Maybe I'll stay in the guestroom—"

Druella's blue eyes widened. " _No._ Bella, dear, you must not to do that."

Bella chuckled. Her mother should have known by now that telling her not to do something only mad her want to do it more.

Druella looked her daughter up and down. Concern spread upon her wrinkled face—but not just about her daughter's affair.

"Bella, what happened?" she asked, "Your dress is stained, your hair is a mess, your skin…" she eyed the scrapes and smudges on Bella's pale arms and legs. "What is _he_ making you do?"

Bella's smile widened. She had been angry at herself for being unable to create an inferi, but that anger had been replaced with pride as soon as she had defeated the inferi Lord Voldemort had created that afternoon.

"Did you know, mother, that fire is the only way to defeat an inferi?" Bella asked.

Druella shook her blonde and gray head. Not only because she did not know that before, but also because she did not like the way her daughter had learned it.

"You should go get cleaned up." Druella suggested, "I'll leave your clothes here so you can get changed."

She lifted her wand. The box of clothing remained on the hardwood floor but the two other boxes, one of books and the other of dolls, rose into the air. They followed her towards the doorway where Bella stood.

"Stop." Bella demanded.

Druella and the floating boxes halted in front of the doorway where she stood. Druella furrowed her wrinkled forehead.

"Bella?" she asked.

Bella was eyeing the box of dolls. "Where are you taking those, mother?"

"I thought I'd give them to your sister while she's here." Druella informed, "Cissy's been trying to conceive for a while now. The dolls might be a good luck charm. They're probably longing to be played with—"

"But they're mine." Bella snapped.

"And they were mine, before." Druella recounted, "You haven't even touched them in over ten years and you're not planning to have a daughter to pass them on to, anyway. Why not give them to someone who wants to?"

"Because they're _mine."_ Bella insisted. Her pale and dirtied arms reached out and snatched the floating box of dolls and clutched it to her chest tightly, protectively.

Druella grimaced, then sighed. "You always have to be so difficult…"

Bella stepped out of the doorway to allow her mother and the floating box of books to exit her childhood bedroom. Once her mother was gone, Bella brought the dolls into the room and locked the door behind her.

* * *

**(1954)**

Princess knew she was a princess.

When she cried in her castle the servants came and gave her what she wanted. She was hand fed by her servants from a throne, the highchair, moved by her servants in a throne, the babycarriage, and slept in a throne, the raised crib.

…except Princess had been usurped. Almost a year ago, now, the usurper was brought into to the castle bundled in a blanket.

And now, when Usurper cried the servants came and Usurper sat in the thrones. Princess had been relegated to a small bed, low to the ground, as if she too was just a servant.

But she knew she was a Princess. Even if everyone else had forgotten.

Usurper was smaller than Princess. Pink and bald and smelly and always crying. But Servants worshipped her like she was a god—fawned over Usurper when they were supposed to be worshipping Princess.

Princess was three years old. She had growing dark hair and big dark eyes. She was much cuter than Usurper. She could even talk now and Usurper could not.

Yet the servants preferred Usurper and Princess was left with the slaves—almost as small as she was with floppy ears that made them look like animals. Princess hated them at first, because they were not her servants, but she was beginning to appreciate how they obeyed her and doted on her the way the servants once did.

But the slaves were cooking in the kitchen now and so Princess was alone. Alone, even though she sat in the star-wallpapered nursery with Usurper and the servant with blonde hair. Princess was on the carpeted floor while Servant rocked Usurper in the rockingchair beside the wooden toychest.

Princess' dark eyes glared with a rage unbefitting such a little girl. She watched as Servant suckled Usurper to her feeder, humming _her_ favorite lullaby.

This was not fair! How dare Servant feed Usurper from the same feeder?! How dare Servant hum Usurper the same lullaby?!

Tears formed in Princess' eyes. She felt her face turn hot. She opened her mouth and screeched.

The humming stopping. Servant was looking at her now, finally looking at her again.

"Bella, hush!" Servant scolded.

Princess just screeched louder, tears flowing down her cheeks and mucus flowing from her nose into her open mouth.

Servant furrowed her brow. "You'll wake your sister!"

 _Good._ Why should the Usurper get to sleep soundly, cradled in Princess' servant's arms?

Princess screeched even louder.

Now, Usurper was screeching, too. And when she screeched Princess' screeches could not compete. Usurper would always be attended to first.

Servant spoke again, but not to Princess.

"Shh, Andromeda, don't cry." Servant consoled, holding Usurper even closer and rocking her even more, "Don't cry, don't cry."

Usurper wailed for a few more moments before calming down and suckling from the feeder again. She cooed in contentment against Servant's bosom.

Princess scowled.

It was then she realized that whenever Usurper was happy, she would always be unhappy. And if Princess was unhappy then Usurper had no right to be happy, either.

And _maybe,_ maybe if Princess made Usurper unhappy, then Princess could be happy. It worked one way, then it should work the other way around. Right?

 _Pain._ Princess thought. Like stubbing a toe or skinning a knee. _Pain._ Her dark eyes glared at Usurper. _Pain._

Usurper began to cry again.

Princess smiled. It worked. Usurper was unhappy and that made Princess happy.

…until Servant began to comfort Usurper again.

Princess frowned.

She wished Usurper would just disappear— _no._ not just disappear. Usurper needed to first be ignored the way Princess was ignored, to have her servants abandon her the way Princess' servants did. _Then_ she could disappear.

Princess wished Usurper would be replaced, just like Princess had been.

Nine months later Narcissa Black was born.

* * *

**(1977)**

The dolls in the box had watched Bella as she stepped out of the shower in the third floor bathroom she used to share with her sisters. A spell dried her body and hair, and she changed into a nightgown even though there was company and it was early in the night.

Bella was exhausted from fighting the inferi and hoped to go to bed early. She just had to find somewhere to sleep.

Now, she was walking barefoot through the dimly-lit third floor hallway, even though there was a chance of splinters from the hardwood floor. In both hands she carried the box of dolls that stared with wide eyes.

On her way back to what once had been her bedroom, she Bella was surprised to see her sister Narcissa's childhood bedroom door open, and her sister Narcissa waving her wand at the pink-covered bed inside the pink-colored room.

The once twinsize bed grew, presumably so it would fit both Narcissa and her husband Lucius. Narcissa waved her wand again. The once pink blankets turned white, confirming that she was indeed changing them for her husband.

The blonde looked up at her older sister Bella as she passed the open doorway.

"Bella! Where are you going with those dolls?" She asked, turning towards her and lowering her wand.

Bella stopped in front of the open doorway, flaunting the dolls in the box as she taunted, "Don't even ask, Cissy, you can't have them."

"Please?" Narcissa tried, "Come on, Bella, I'm your baby sister!"

She made her blue eyes big and pleading. While her oldest sister used anger and flirtation to get what she wanted, Narcissa used cuteness and whining.

It worked on her parents, it worked on her husband, but it did not work on Bella.

"No." She refused, simply.

"We were supposed to share them when we were little, but you horded them all for yourself." Narcissa sniffed, "And you're still acting like a selfish child. Grow up."

Bella snorted. "You only want them because they're mine."

Narcissa folded her arms, sinking down onto the mattress behind her. "I'm not you, Bella. I don't want to take things just because they belong to someone else. You know why I want the dolls."

"Why would you want to have a child now?" Bella dismissed, "You're only twenty-two."

"I'd be twenty-three by the time I gave birth." Narcissa corrected, "And our mother was younger than that when she had you. I've always wanted to be a young mother, you know that."

"So that's all you are, Cissy?" Bella scoffed, "An incubator for the next generation? First, you're a dutiful daughter, then you're a dutiful wife, and soon a dutiful mother. You never even get to live your own life."

Narcissa rolled her blue eyes, "Maybe that's the way I _want_ to live my life. Instead of being selfish like you, Bella."

"So what if I am selfish?" Bella shrugged, the box of dolls in her arms bobbing with the movement of her shoulders.

Insults always seemed to make her feel proud of herself; _'selfish', 'whore', 'cruel', 'bitch'._ They were the glints in her dark eyes and the gleams in her red-lipped smile.

"Having a child gives life meaning and purpose." Narcissa attempted, "I can't wait to have one of my own. You never really grow up until you have children. It's the only way anyone can truly learn to put another's needs before their own."

"Why would I want to put another's needs before my own?" Bella replied, "And my own satisfaction is enough 'meaning and purpose' for me."

Narcissa sighed in defeat. She had always avoided conflict as long as Bella could remember.

"Whatever you say, Bella…" Narcissa acquiesced flopping backwards onto the bed she already sat on so that she was staring up at the pink ceiling rather than at her stubborn older sister. This was an argument they had had many times before.

Bella smiled in triumph. She had always sought conflict, even more than victory.

"And you can't have my dolls, Cissy." She reminded, because winning the argument was not enough.

She then spun on the heels of her bare feet and left the doorway of the pink bedroom, box of dolls in both arms.

* * *

It was only when Bella reached the top of the spiraling stairs, which led down to her destination, the guest bedroom on the second floor, that something occurred to her.

She should have said that dedication to the cause of Pureblood Supremacy gave her life meaning and purpose, and that she would put the Dark Lord's needs before her own.

Why had she not said that? Why had she not even thought of it?

Bella grimaced before starting down the stairs.

* * *

**(1959)**

Bellatrix Black was almost nine years old. Andromeda Black was almost seven. Narcissa Black was almost six. They were big girls now, at least that was what Mother said.

Bella knew better. She was a big girl now. Her sisters were still little babies.

So why were they _all_ brought by Mother into the star-wallpapered nursery for an 'important reason'? It should have only been Bella. She was the oldest.

The white stars of the white constellations moved on the black ceiling above and the black walls on all four sides. The room was brightly lit by the uncurtained windows overlooking the backyard and by the lamp hanging from the starry ceiling, but even so the stars glowed.

The wooden toychest was open, all its treasures littering the white carpet of the nursery floor. Mother and the three girls ignored the mess. The House Elves would clean later.

Mother had a box in her arms. She was much taller than the girls and so they could not see into the box above them…until Mother lowered herself to the floor. She sat in front of the three girls and so the three girls sat down across from her.

Bella sat with a sister on either side of her. She sat with her legs open even though she was wearing a dress.

Mother narrowed her blue eyes at this. "Bella, sit like a lady."

Bella grimaced and repositioned herself so that she was seated cross-legged like her little sisters, the skirts of their dresses touching the white carpet and concealing whatever was so important to conceal.

Mother smiled now.

Bella liked it when Mother smiled at her. But she hated how Mother gave Andy and Cissy the exact same smile.

Mother set down the box in front of the girls. They leaned forward to peer inside. There were three dolls staring back at them.

"Three dolls for three daughters." Mother said. She waved her wand.

Bella longed for the day she would hold her own wand in her hand. So far, every time she used magic she was scolded and every time she had taken Mother or Father's wand to practice with, she was punished.

As soon as Mother's wand waved, the dolls in the box sat up as if they had come to life.

The three girls watching grinned at this. Andy and Cissy squealed in delight, but Bella was too old for that.

The dolls climbed out of the box and toddled across the carpet. One went to Andy, one went to Cissy and one went to Bella.

Bella picked up the doll to examine it. She was blonde and blue eyed, like Mother and Cissy, and the other two dolls.

Bella narrowed her dark eyes. Why were the pretty dolls always blonde and blue eyed? Why were the pretty _girls_ always blonde and blue eyed?

Cissy always got the most compliments at the pureblood parties. And it was not just because she was the youngest and so automatically the cutest.

It bothered Bella and Andy, but it bothered Bella more. She wanted to be the prettiest. She wanted to be the cutest. She wanted to be the _best._

Suddenly, the doll in Bella's hands started to change color. Its blonde hair became black and so did its blue eyes.

At first, Bella thought Mother had waved her wand again. But then Mother gasped.

"Bella! What are you doing?!" she cried, reaching forward, across the box, to snatch the doll back out of Bella's hands.

As soon as the doll was out of Bella's grasp and back in Mother's, it returned to its original coloration. Blonde and blue-eyed and beautiful.

Bella frowned. "You made it ugly again."

Mother frowned and so did Cissy. Cissy and Andy and the dolls in their hands were staring at Bella now.

"These are Rosier dolls, Bella." Mother explained, "Their hair must always be golden and their eyes must always be blue, like all the Rosier's. They were given to me by me as a child and now I'm giving them to you, my beautiful daughters."

Once again, reached forward across the box. This time she handed the blonde, blue-eyed doll to Bella. Bella snatched it even though she did not want it if it did not look like her, then dropped it into her lap where it hit the skirt of her dress with a thud.

"Careful!" Mother called, jolting, blue eyes widening.

She always did that. Bella had learned to disregard it.

"Why didn't Aunt Lucerna and Uncle Everett get a doll, too?" Bella wondered.

"Well, your Uncle Everett was a boy and dolls are for girls." Mother explained, pausing before delivering the second half of the explanation. "And your Aunt Lucerna, well, she's younger than me and so—"

"Then I should get all three dolls!" Bella interrupted, "I'm the oldest!"

"Three dolls for three daughters." Mother repeated, with certainty, "You girls are going to have to share."

"No!" Bella snapped.

She reached to both sides of her, grabbing the other two dolls out of her younger sisters' hands. Andy knew better than to resist. Cissy shrieked and started to cry.

Bella clutched all three dolls to her chest. She did not even like them, she did not even want them, but they were going to be hers. Their coloring started to change…

"Bella, no!" Mother shouted, "How many times do I have to tell you? Share with your sisters!" She waved her wand again.

Two dolls, reverting to their original blonde and blue-eyed coloring, escaped from Bella's hands and floated back into the eager hands of her sisters again. They smiled. Bella scowled.

She scowled across the box at her Mother, then down at the remaining doll in her lap. For the third time, its color changed from blonde and blue eyed to black-haired and black-eyed.

"It's not a Rosier doll, it's a Black doll." Bella declared.

Mother sighed in defeat. "Fine, Bella, whatever you say…"

Cissy was cradling the doll in her arms like a mother would cradle a baby. It stared back up at her in reverence, but Cissy was already worshipping it like her own child.

Andy just eyed her blonde and blue-eyed doll, not in worship but not in scorn either. For a moment, her brown hair flashed blonde and her brown eyes flashed blue. But only for a moment. Then, they returned to their natural brown color.

Andy could change into the doll, if she wanted to, but she did not want to. Cissy was perfect the way she was. Bella changed the doll into her, into what she wanted it to be.

The girls sat in the nursery , dolls in their hands. Three dolls for three daughters.

A week later all three dolls were dark-haired and dark-eyed, sitting on the shelf of Bella's bedroom, already forgotten.

* * *

**(1977)**

Bella looked both ways in the dim second floor hallway, and listened to the chatter rising from the diningroom on the floor below, before knocking on the door to the guestroom.

She did not want her youngest cousin Regulus to see her go into the Dark Lord's room and think the wrong thing (well, the right thing, actually). Bella did not care if anyone else knew, but Regulus was too young to understand that not all husbands and wives were in love and that love often had nothing to do with sex.

Bella shifted the weight of the box in her hands all onto one arm so that she could use the other to knock on the door. There was no vocal answer when she did but the door opened on its own.

Again, Bella looked both ways in the dimly-lit hallway, and checked that there was still chatter from the diningroom beneath her and that there were no feet climbing the spiraling stairs, before entering the guestroom.

The door shut, also on its own, behind Bella as soon as she was inside the room. Her dark eyes blinked, unadjusted to darkness. The only source of light was the last hints of sunset beyond the closed curtains of the window overlooking the back lawn.

"Why are you here, Bella?" the voice of Lord Voldemort asked.

Bella could not see where he was yet. She wondered if he had read her mind to know it was her or if he had just assumed it was here since nobody else would dare bother him, anyway.

There was a figure on the bed—no, that was the snake. Bella forgot its name again. It was stretching up towards the ceiling, for some reason, and hissing. Bella supposed it was saying something, not that a snake would have anything of consequence to say.

Another voice hissed back. The sound came from the desk. So that was where the Dark Lord Voldemort was.

Bella squinted. She could see him sitting in the chair in front of the wooden desk. It looked like he was writing something, there was a quill in his hand instead of a wand, but she could not tell what it was. He did not turn to face her.

The snake lowered itself. Bella kept watch on it out of the corner of her eye, while she stared at the back of Lord Voldemort's head.

"My lord, my mother cleared out my room on behalf of the Durmstrang professor." Bella informed him, then more slyly, she added, "I was hoping I could stay here from now on."

"No." Voldemort refused, "Though I won't allow your parents—or anyone—to tell me what I can and cannot do, Cygnus and Druella were correct when they said that us openly having an affair would make me lose credibility to Pureblood Society."

The snake was hissing again. It sounded angry.

"We can be discrete." Bella tried, cocking her long-haired head to one side.

"I don't think you're capable of that." Voldemort dismissed, back still turned.

Bella grimaced. "Can I at least hide these dolls here, then? If I put them anywhere else my mother will take them and give them to my little sister.

Now, Lord Voldemort's head turned to face Bella, and then the box of dolls she held in both arms. He eyed them with suspicious red eyes in the darkness.

"No." he refused again, then looked back at whatever he was writing again, though the quill in his hand was not moving.

"But—"

"You're a grown woman. What do you need dolls for?"

Bella just clutched the box in her arms more tightly. "Don't you have anything you're sentimental about, my lord? Any items you've kept from childhood?"

It was a genuine question.

Most people had at least one possession, usually more, that they kept even though they did not need it. But the Dark Lord Voldemort was not most people. And so, his answer to her question would reveal something about him either way (if he answered honestly).

Voldemort turned his head around again, but this time he did not look at Bella or the box of dolls in her arms. He stared right past her at the wooden nightstand next to the queensize bed.

Bella glanced over at the nightstand, as well. There was nothing on its surface but a lamp and so she guessed that there must have been something in its drawer…

Voldemort noticed that she had noticed this, and so stood up from the chair, setting down the quill and picking up his wand again. Bella turned to look at him again.

"What's in the drawer?" she inquired.

Lord Voldemort did not answer that question, instead changing the subject. "You didn't come here to make requests you knew I would refuse and ask questions you know I won't answer."

That was true. The dolls were an excuse. Still, Bella knew the Dark Lord was trying to distract her from whatever was in the nightstand drawer, but she did not mind if that meant he was going to imply another reason why she had come to his room.

"Then why did I come here, my lord?" Bella feigned innocence, trying hard not to smirk.

It was dark in the guestroom. Bella was unable to see most of the details on Lord Voldemort's pale face but she could tell his expression was not an enthusiastic one.

It never was, though.

Here Bella was in his room wearing nothing but a revealing nightgown and he did not seem interested. In fact, it seemed like he had not even noticed.

This intrigued Bella as much as it insulted her. She had never before met a man who was less attracted to her than she was to him. It was surprising, upsetting and also invigorating. Bella liked challenges.

Voldemort was still standing by the desk, examining Bella with red eyes. She realized the box was still in both arms, a barrier between the two of them as much as the few feet of distance in the dark room was.

Carefully, Bella knelt to set the box of dolls down on the hardwood floor, gently so that they would not break. They stared up at her, miniature reflections, as she rose back up to her full height.

"You should know better, Bella." Voldemort said, "A married pureblood woman should be conducting herself with more class."

The snake hissed in what sounded like agreement from where it was curled atop the black-blanketed bed. Bella glanced a glare at it, quickly, then continued to face the Dark Lord. She almost rolled her eyes.

He was complaining about her behavior _again?_ He should have realized by now that being a rich, pureblood girl who belonged to two noble families meant that she could do whatever she wanted to.

"You sound like my father." Bella groaned. She was not actually annoyed. Taboo made the so-called 'affair' more exciting.

Voldemort, however, looked insulted at being compared to her father. He narrowed his red eyes. "Your father knew me from school, he and the others who attended with us, all knew that I was the best of all of them; the smartest, the most skilled, the most powerful. And yet they all were skeptical of my ability to achieve my goals when I arrived here. They still are. But not you. Why?"

Bella shrugged. She had not contemplated this very deeply.

Lord Voldemort had shown her that he could revive dead corpses—which she had never witnessed before and most people believed to be impossible—and so that was enough for her. He was clearly more powerful than any other wizard or witch Bella had ever met from that demonstration alone.

"The dead House Elves you reanimated, my lord." Bella said. "No one else can do necromancy."

Voldemort nodded, accepting this. Then, however, he wondered, "But that doesn't explain why you were so eager to go to bed with me."

Bella half laughed, half sighed. She had not contemplated that very deeply, either.

The mysterious Mr. Marvolo had arrived, Bella had wanted the interesting stranger, like she wanted most new and exciting things, and so she decided to get him. By the time she had found out he was a halfblood, she had already made up her mind to get what she wanted and that revelation had not changed the fact that she wanted him—in fact, if she was honest with herself, the forbidden aspect became part of the illicit draw (once the fact that Lord Voldemort was in favor of Pureblood Supremacy and an heir of Slytherin balanced out his pesky muggle father, of course).

"You don't know what it's like being a woman trapped at home while your husband is away." Bella tried to explain, "No job, nothing to do but stare at the peeling wallpaper all day and chase muggles who never put up much of a fight all night. It gets so boring, so _lonely…"_

That was why she stayed with her parents while Rodolphus was in France. They were not the best company, but they were better than the empty rooms and suffocating silence of her and her husband's house in London.

"Your husband is back now." Voldemort reminded, "You have no need to pursue me anymore."

Bella squinted in the darkness again. Neither the Dark Lord's tone of voice nor his facial expression told her whether he was simply making an observation or if he was suggesting that she stop pursuing him.

Many men were uncomfortable being pursued by a woman, either because they believed it was not a woman's place to be a hunter, or just because they had never been pursued by a woman before and were shocked that it was actually happening. Very few men would refuse a woman's advances, even if he was not all that interested in her.

And Bella had not been refused, at least not really, but…but she was beginning to think that the Dark Lord Voldemort was resenting having to accommodate her attraction to him rather than slowly starting to return it as she hoped he would.

Bella did not like being rejected.

She crossed her arms. "Yes I do. My husband isn't as interesting as you are, my lord, no one is."

And no one else could look into her mind and so know how to touch her without having to ask. (Though her husband Rod had become very practiced over the years.)

Voldemort smiled at being complimented, but only a little and only very briefly before the smile reversed into a frown. "So it's the same to you? Following me, learning from me, sleeping with me? Just a pastime for your amusement—"

" _No."_ Bella interrupted to deny, while simultaneously wondering if he was actually correct.

"I'm not one of men you can toy with, Bella." Voldemort continued, "Women often sleep with powerful men in an attempt to use his power as her own. But if that is your aim, you won't succeed."

Bella shook her head of long dark hair. "That's not what I want at all, my lord. You know that's not true. I'm not trying to use you. Look into my mind."

She stared directly into the Dark Lord's red eyes, allowing the murky water of her Occlumency to dry up so that he could see her thought. Soon, she could feel him analyzing her mind.

Voldemort hmmed in consideration.

" _See?"_ Bella insisted.

"I see a memory." Voldemort said.

Bella raised a thin dark eyebrow, "A memory?"

But as soon as she asked, the memory was replaying in her mind. It was not something she had been consciously thinking of at the time, or even something she had thought about in years, and yet it was what Voldemort had immediately found.

_The girl was twelve, a child although she thought of herself as a woman—and thought like a woman, she wanted the things that women wanted. She was sitting up in bed in her bedroom, alone in the dark, under the covers. She was watching the window. She had left the curtains parted, just slightly, so she could see the sliver of moonlight, but she had left the glass closed. She was waiting up for something. For someone. Waiting and waiting and waiting and waiting…_

_Suddenly, a silhouette in the window, black against the white moonlight. Her breath caught in her throat, she was frightened but excited, she smiled. The curtains parted further, like opening gates, so she could better see the silhouette. The window shattered, breaking open, but silently—so as not to wake her parents. The silhouette stepped through and glided into the girl's bedroom, like a shadow in solid form. Tall, dark, and powerful._ _She watched him in anticipation but did not move._

_The shadow would come to her. He would give her everything she wanted without her even having to ask. He would control her body and mind like she was his little dolls and she would love it because he would make her love it. And because it was what she already desired—_

"That isn't a memory." Bella stated, "That never happened. It's just…"

"Something you used to wish would happen." Voldemort completed.

"Yes, my lord." Bella admitted, smiling. She was not ashamed. Why should she be? She had never been one to feel shame.

Her smile quickly disappeared when she saw the look of sheer disgust on Voldemort's face.

"I see for certain now what this is to you." he said, "An adolescent fantasy made real. I really shouldn't have expected better from you."

In the dark, Bella's pale face turned pink and she looked down at her bare feet on the hardwood floor, feeling like a berated child. It was rare for anyone or anything to make her embarrassed, but the Dark Lord had that ability.

She did not bother to deny what he had said. He could see into her mind, see parts of her mind that she did not even have access to. He knew better than she did her own motivations.

Quickly, Bella brought up her Occlumency shield again. She did not want Lord Voldemort to see anymore of her thoughts, memories, and old wishes.

"You have the potential to be more than just a wife waiting for her husband to return from business or a little girl watching the window at night." Voldemort continued, "But you have to leave those weaknesses behind. They're distracting you and wasting your energy."

"Why are they weaknesses, my lord?" Bella asked, in genuine confusion. She wanted to understand the distaste for sex she was starting to realize he had.

"I just told you, they are distractions and a waste of energy." Voldemort repeated. It was all he would say on the subject, though there was probably more he did not say.

"So you never…reciprocated my…attraction, not even a little?" Bella checked, making sure to choose her words carefully, "You only wanted to isolate me from my husband and parents so that I would be fully loyal to you?"

"Yes." Lord Voldemort nodded.

Bella supposed the admission should have made her angry and ashamed at being so easily manipulated, but it did not. It only confirmed to her that she had made the correct choice in leader and in lover (even if he only wanted to be one of those things to her) since she was not an easy person to control and so only someone truly powerful would be able to manipulate her.

"And you didn't enjoy it, not even a little?" Bella followed up.

Voldemort paused before answering, but again nodded "No, I didn't."

Bella grimaced.

A man who was not attracted to her? Who did not enjoy sleeping with her? _Impossible!_

…and yet, here he was standing in front of her by the wooden desk in the dark guest bedroom.

As much as Bella was offended at not being desirable, she was excited to finally meet a man who used sex to manipulate her the way she used sex to manipulate other men. As much as Bella enjoyed having power over others, for the first time she enjoyed someone having power over her.

"I understand, my lord." Bella accepted, more to the floor beneath her feet than to the taller man watching her in the darkness like a shadow on the wall.

"You don't call me that out of respect, you call me that out of desire." Voldemort commented.

Bella looked up, dark eyes staring across the dark room at him. "They're the same thing, to me."

Lord Voldemort's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. But there was no disgust in his expression this time.

So, Bella smirked and added, _"My lord."_ tone of voice demonstrating what she meant.

She knew he liked to be called that. Everything he had said during their current conversation was to make sure that she was not planning on using him, that she was loyal to him, and, most importantly, that she respected him as her superior.

He wanted deference and worship. He already had that from her, but if he wanted confirmation, she could give that to him. If the Dark Lord Voldemort wanted flattery, then Bella could give that to him. _Would_ give that to him.

"You're the most powerful wizard I know, you can do magic no one else can." Bella continued, "How could you expect me _not_ to desire you? Who wouldn't? I know you consider that a weakness but I can't help it. I'm not as powerful as you. I can't resist those feelings."

It was all true, but it was not something Bella would have said aloud to anyone else.

She squinted, scanning Voldemort white pale face for his reaction. Would he appreciate the flattery? Or would he be offended at how obvious it was?

There was a hint of a smile on Voldemort's face now.

"I don't 'resist', I simply don't have such needs." He said.

The statement did not even surprise Bella at this point. She was beginning to suspect that the man was not as human as she had originally assumed him to be.

…still, she was not sure she _completely_ believed him, as he had seemed to at least somewhat enjoy himself the two times they had been together. There were some things that could not be faked, even by magic, as far as Bella knew.

"Of course not, my lord, someone like you would be above that." Bella replied, more flattery, "Which makes it all the more charitable of you to have rewarded me by satisfying my needs."

The hint of a smile on Voldemort's face grew a little wider.

Bella continued, "I'm not just lucky, I'm honored _—"_

"That's enough, Bella." Voldemort silenced. The smile was gone, replaced by narrowed red eyes.

Bella stopped talking, slumping her shoulders at being caught overdoing the flattery. "Sorry, my lord…"

"You did well today, with the inferi." Voldemort changed the subject, "Not as well as I thought you would, but well enough. It only took you a day to figure out fire is the inferi's weakness."

Bella smiled. "Thank you, my lord."

 _Did his compliment mean he was going to give her a reward?_ She started across the hardwood floor towards Lord Voldemort in the hopes and the expectation that she would.

The snake hissed angrily and slid off of the bed to block Bella's path, as if sensing what the human woman wanted. Bella stopped, jumping back so as not to step on the large snake, now an outstretched dividing line between her and Voldemort.

The snake glared up at Bella from the floor, continuing to hiss angrily. Bella glared back, then looked up at Voldemort in confusion.

"She, like your parents, does not approve of relations between halfbloods and purebloods." Voldemort explained, with a sigh of annoyance that suggested he and the snake had had this same disagreement before.

Bella grinned. She knew how Voldemort had reacted every time someone did not want him to sleep with her.

"Well, 'she' should know better than to try to control you." Bella stated, matter-of-factly.

"So should you." Voldemort returned.

The snake hissed again, even nodding its small head in accordance.

Voldemort raised his wand. The door to the guest bedroom opened, dim light from the dim hallway outside reaching into the darkness inside.

Bella and the snake both glanced at the open doorway, bright compared to the dark room in which they stood, then at each other, and then turned to their shared lord. _Which one of them would be asked to leave? Which one would be allowed to stay?_

There was a short moment of silence. With the door open, the dinner chatter from downstairs was audible again, utensils and plates clinking, voices occasionally laughing.

And then Voldemort spoke. In parseltongue.

Bella smiled in triumph and the snake slithered in defeat out of the dark guestroom into the dimly-lit hallway. The door closed behind it. The room was dark again.

Bella blinked at the change in lighting, temporarily blind. The Dark Lord Voldemort seemed unbothered.

"We've been talking for quite a while, Bella." He reminded. "People might start to wonder where you are."

"So?" Bella shrugged, intentionally trying to make the strap of her nightgown fall from her shoulder—even though she knew by now that an exposed shoulder would not arouse the seemingly passionless man standing on the other side of the dark room like it would other men.

"It wouldn't be difficult to guess where you are." Voldemort chastised. "You'd jeopardize the future success of my plans for a few moments of pleasure? How immature."

He did have a point. Bella glanced away from him at the guestroom door, making sure it was still closed. It was. But was it _locked?_ What if Regulus, for some reason, decided to walk in?

"You're right, my lord." Bella acquiesced, sighing in defeat, "I should go."

She reached down to pick up the box of dolls with both hands, taking one last look at Lord Voldemort before starting towards the closed door. He let her fumble with it, hands full, instead of just waving his wand so it would open for her.

But, when Bella managed to open the door with one hand, while balancing the box of dolls in her other arm, Voldemort spoke.

"Come back later tonight, after everyone is asleep." He invited.

Bella would have squealed a jumped up but she was holding a box and the door to the dim hallway was open in front of her, ready to carry sound. So she muted her reaction in case anyone was listening and so that she did not seem like an overeager child to her lord.

"Yes, my lord, thank you." Bella agreed, quickly, as if speaking before Voldemort could say anything else would prevent him from changing his mind.

From the doorway in which she stood, she glanced back at his unreadable pale face, smiled, then exited the guestroom.

* * *

**(1964)**

The Lestranges lived in a Paris penthouse most of the year, to be close to Reynard Lestrange's business, but the family did spend a few weeks every summer on the island of Corsica in the South of France.

Every summer after Reynard Lestrange and Cygnus Black had agreed their oldest children would marry upon coming of age, the Lestranges had invited the Blacks to their beachhouse on the mountainous bay that overlooked the yellow sand and clear water.

It was red-roofed and single-storied, each room painted the same pastel green. Its outside walls were an array of different-sized, differed-shaded stone.

Thirteen year old Bella hated sharing a room with her sisters. The three Black girls were lent the queensize bed in the second guestroom; their parents the kingsize in the first guestroom next door.

The window was open to let in the cool salty air that warm night, along with moon and starlight. The translucent curtains waved rhythmically in the breeze like the water in the bay.

Lying motionless, eyes closed but awake, Bella waited until she was sure Andy and Cissy were asleep by their slow breathing beside her. She had only even let them sleep in this bed, rather than forcing them onto the couch and the rug across from the bed in the guestroom, because she had never planned to sleep in it herself.

Once she was sure, Bella opened her eyes.

She stared up at the ceiling as her eyes adjusted, then carefully and silently, slid out of the bed large bed. Once her feet were on the tiled floor, she quietly crossed the dark room, and opened its door slowly, so that it would not creak. Once it was open, she slipped through and shut it behind her.

* * *

The hallway was darker, as it had no windows and so no moonlight. Bella could barely see, but that was alright. She knew where she was going. Past the other guestroom, where her parents were supposed to be, then past Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange's room, and finally past Rabastan's room, until she reached the room of her betrothed, Rodolphus.

Bella made sure her footsteps were silent on the tile as she crept down the hall in the dark. Her heart rate grew faster with each step in anticipation.

The concept of boys had burst into Bella's life like an unexpected explosion. Before, boys were the heroes of children's books that went on exciting adventures while the girls waited in towers to be rescued. Now, boys were not just what Bella always wished she could be, but now what she wished she could _have—_ or have her.

For the first time, she considered what it would like to be a princes in a tower when the prince burst in, expecting his reward for saving her. No, the prince was too polite to expect anything. So, then, she considered what it would be like to be a princess in a tower, kidnapped by the dragon.

_Boys._

Bella had grown up not interacting with boys except for a few hours at pureblood parties. She was raised along with two other girls, her sisters, by a woman, her mother, and female House Elves. Bella spent most of her childhood in the presence of only females. (Her father spent his days in the office and his nights…well, Bella did not know. Most nights he worked late.)

But then came her first year of Hogwarts, and suddenly, Bella was surrounded by boys. Boys her age, older boys, professors— _men._

It was not fair. Just after she was promised to one boy she was sent to school to be taunted by all the other options she was not allowed to have, even just to test out. And she did not even get to choose which one would be her husband. It just was not fair.

Rodolphus was cute, those green eyes, he would grow up to be handsome like his father, everyone said. He was even fun to spend time with now that he was no longer afraid of her. But he was just one boy, and why did she have to be limited to just one boy?

Bella wondered this as she snuck down the darkened hallway.

She passed by her the first guestroom where both her parents were supposed to be. She stopped, for just a moment, to listen at its closed wooden door.

Pages turning in a book. Mother was reading before bed again. She only ever read when Father was not there.

Bella was not surprised.

Bella stopped listening at that door, then squinted through the darkness at the door on the other side of the hall. Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange's room. Curious, Bella went over to listen at that door, too. Would Mrs. Lestrange be turning pages while her husband was somewhere else, too?

 _No._ Mrs. Lestrange was not turning pages and her husband was not somewhere else.

Bella may have listened a little too long at that door before pulling herself away and continuing down the hall to her destination.

An entire year. An entire year that had felt like a lifetime. Bella had waited up in bed all her nights at Hogwarts and all her nights at home, waiting, just waiting….

Waiting for what? The prince to rescue her? The dragon to kidnap her? The shadow to come in through the window? All of that was fantasy. Fantasy could not satisfy her anymore.

She was supposed to wait until her wedding night, but that was almost five years away. Too long. She could not wait anymore.

To get what she wanted, Bella had to take matters into her own hands(—or, rather, _not_ do that for once).

Bella stopped in front of the door to her fiancé Rodolphus' beachhouse bedroom. She reached to try its doorknob but then paused, hand hovering above the metal.

She smiled to herself in the dark. She should not use the door. She should come into his room through the window. If the shadow in the window would not come for her, then she would become the shadow in the window herself.

* * *

Rodolphus was already awake when Bella stood at his window, already open just like the second guest bedroom's window. Rodolphus sat up in his bed in the dark room, lit only by the moonlight, while the window curtains and Bella's long dark hair danced in the night breeze.

But he did not notice her for a few minutes while she stood there watching him, distracted by something fascinating beneath his green blankets.

The two young teenagers had spent all afternoon together, avoiding respective their parents and younger siblings. Too cool and mature to play in the sand and water, they had just walked and talked, footprints stolen by the tide.

But Bella had never enjoyed long conversations. Her mind—and her eyes—had wandered.

There were many attractive older boys on the beach, taller and more muscular in their swimming trunks than skinny little thirteen year old Roddy. And even though Mr. Lestrange was old, not very tall, and without any muscles, there was something handsome about the way he wore a suit to the beach, as if unsubject to the heat, talking business and politics with her father at a table while their wives chatted and watched the younger children.

But Bella did not have access to the older boys on the beach and she certainly did not have access to Mr. Lestrange, even though he was right down the hallway behind her. Who she did have access to was Rodolphus.

And so, from the open window where she stood, flanked by curtains and stars, Bella coughed.

Rodolphus jolted, green eyes widening and head whipping towards the source of the sound. He almost screamed at the sight of a shadowy figure in the window.

"Rod, it's me." Bella whispered.

Rodolphus squinted. "Bella? What are you doing here? I was just—"

"I know what you were doing." Bella giggled, stepping down from the window ledge into the bedroom and stalking towards the small bed, "Let me help. We can…well, you know."

'Sex' was still a dirty word for the thirteen year old. She could not bring herself to say it.

Rodolphus' green eyes widened again. His face glowed pink in the darkness.

"W-what?" he stammered, "We can't. We're too young. We're not married."

Bella shrugged, standing beside where Rodolphus sat in bed. Rodolphus scooted away from her, keeping the blankets as a barrier between them.

Bella scowled. "Who cares? No one has to know. And we're promised, anyway."

Rodolphus stared down at the blanket, unable to make eye-contact with her. "Still…"

"We already kissed." Bella reminded.

Not just the day their fathers had agreed upon their future marriage. They had kissed at Hogwarts, too, and that day on the beach, when Rodolphus was sure nobody they knew was looking.

"That's different." Rodolphus protested.

Bella shook her head, long hair shaking with it. She was honestly shocked that her betrothed was so hesitant. Did he not have the same feelings she did?

"So you don't want to?" Bella questioned, brow furrowed, "I thought all boys wanted to."

"I thought girls didn't." Rodolphus returned.

Oh, virginity. A young woman's most important trait, second only to her beauty.

Bella's mother and father had warned her to guard hers closely. It was gift she could only give to her husband and only give once. And it rightfully belonged to Rodolphus Lestrange, as decided by his and her fathers.

Bella thought that was stupid. Why should she give anyone anything? What had little Rod done to deserve such a gift from her?

If it was really so special then she should take it for herself, Bella reasoned. And so she did with her own wand, years ago, not for any pleasure and not understanding fully what it meant.

"Is that what your mummy told you?" Bella snickered, "She lied. You could go ask her again, but she's busy with your father at the moment."

Rodolphus' pink face blushed even redder, his body tensing in disgust at the thought of his parents having sex. No child wanted to imagine their parents having sex.

But it was worse, Bella thought, knowing that one's parents no longer loved each other (or perhaps never did; they were an arranged marriage). Her mother was just a mother, now, no longer a woman, and while her father was rich and successful, he was not suave like Mr. Lestrange.

Bella hoped that when she and Rodolphus got married, they ended up like his parents, not hers. She could fall in love with Rodolphus. Maybe.

…or, maybe not.

He looked so pathetic, crouching under his covers like a scared little child in bed, not looking up at Bella standing over him like she was a monster come to attack him not a pretty girl come to make his teenage dreams come true.

Again, Bella would have to take matters into her own hands. From where she stood, she leaned towards Rodolphus who pulled up his knees to his chest, creating another barrier between them.

"Kiss me." Bella ordered.

She leaned her face further towards Rodolphus, puckering her lips and closing her eyes. When she did not feel the warmth and moisture on her mouth, she opened her eyes again.

Rodolphus was finally looking at her, but he was not moving.

"Kiss me." Bella repeated, then adding, "…or I'll go to your little brother's room and see if he'll do it. I bet _he_ will. I caught him staring at me during dinner."

Rodolphus glared, not at Bella but at the wall separating his room from Rabastan's.

Then, Rodolphus' green eyes looked back at his fiancée. They closed, his lips puckered, and he leaned forward to kiss her.

But before he could, Bella smiled because as soon as he was not looking, she was able to yank the blankets off of him. His eyes popped open in surprise, pajama-clad body bristling at the change in temperate, then narrowed at Bella in annoyance.

Bella's grin just widened.

Rodolphus sighed in defeat. He did not protest as Bella sat down leaned forward to kiss him again. And he did not protest as she reached forward to undo the button of his pajama shirt.

Once again, Bella had won. She had gotten what she wanted. _But did she really…?_

Sex was supposed to be mind-blowingly amazing, better than touching oneself when alone. The first time was supposed to be a transformative experience, turning a child into an adult. And yet, Bella was underwhelmed that night at the Lestrange beachhouse.

…but that did not mean she would not try again until she got it right.

* * *

**(1977)**

Past the Black Manor's library and past Cygnus Black's study, was the room that used to be the nursey. Now it was just a dusty unused room, full of old toys and clothes the now grown Black sisters no longer used.

There was a rockinghorse, beside it a rockingchair. Both moved when Bella opened the door to the room. Their rocking startled her. _Maybe it was just the wind…?_

There was no wind. The windows were painted shut. They were also curtainless and so dark blue dusk outside was visible through the glass in the unlit room.

Bella stepped inside, box of dolls in her arms. This room, unlike all the others in the manor, had not been restored.

There were two boxes on the hardwood floor by the door as she walked in, new additions to the room of old things, since every other box had a layer of gray. One box of books, one box of clothing. Bella recognized them from her now-commandeered room, Druella must have put these boxes in this room only a little while ago.

There was an old crib in the corner. It was covered with a white sheet to protect it from dust, the same kind of sheet thrown over dead bodies.

That was where Bella carried the box of dolls, setting the box down by the wooden crib leg, visible from under the sheet. Hands now free, she ripped the sheet off of the crib.

She almost expected to find eerily-lifelike babydoll or an actual baby skeleton of a secret dead sibling; something creepy and decaying, befitting this old, all-but forgotten room. But there was nothing.

The crib was empty.

With the hand not holding the sheet, Bella reached down to pick up the dolls, one by one, and place them inside the crib. From its tiny mattress, they stared up at her with her own face.

Bella covered the crib with the white sheet.

* * *

The dim diningroom was empty when Bella entered from the dim hall. It had two tables now, used plates and silverware still on one.

The door to the kitchen swung open. Druella entered to retrieve the remaining plates. She waved her wand and they rose into the air, almost dropping when Druella jolted upon seeing her daughter in the doorway.

"Oh, Bella, dear, you startled me." She said, turning to face her. The plates and silverware wavered in the air but did not fall.

"Where is everyone?" Bella asked, eyeing the empty chairs at the two empty tables.

"Bed." Druella informed, "They have an early start tomorrow."

Bella smiled a little. The sooner everyone went to sleep, the sooner she could return to the guestroom…

But the boys were not asleep yet. Bella could hear a shower running. And there were ten students—nine of whom were staying in the Black Manor and so all had to share the same third floor bathroom, along with Alecto Carrow, Narcissa Malfoy, and Bella herself (who then decided she might actually use the second or ground floor bathrooms from now on).

"The Notts went home." Druella continued, "The Russian went with them, which I'm glad of. He made a pass at me today, even though he knows full well I'm married. I turned him down, of course, but can you believe that?"

Bella did not believe that. She eyed her mother's faded, wrinkled beauty. The old (middle-aged, actually, but older than her years) woman was probably making up that story in an attempt to teach Bella to be loyal to her husband.

Bella rolled her dark eyes. "I still don't have anywhere to sleep."

"Your brother-in-law is staying in your sister's room with her." Druella informed, "There should be an extra bed in one of the other third floor rooms."

Bella smirked, "Sharing a room with boys? Wouldn't that be improper?"

Druella sniffed. "You've never cared about what's proper."

Bella started to laugh but her stomach growled loudly. She had not eaten since that morning.

Druella's brow furrowed in concern. "You're hungry, dead? Let me fix you something to eat, sit down." She gestured at the table nearest to her.

Bella walked over to it as Druella exited the diningroom, back through the winging door into the kitchen, the plates and silverware hovering behind her.

Alone in the dimly-lit diningroom, Bella sat down at the table closest to the three paintings on the wall. She hated eating by herself, but the moving images of herself and her youngest sister (and the blood-spatter where the bloodtraitor's face used to be) were kind of like having company.

Bella remembered when the paintings were made, a gift to her parents from her late maternal grandparents. At first, they had been just pictures of toddlers, but they had aged as the real Black sisters had aged.

Would they die when the real Black sisters died, too? Probably. But Bella would destroy hers before she watched it grow old.

After eating dinner, Bella climbed the spiraling steps up to the third floor, walked down the dim hall past the makeshift dormitory and pushed open the door to what had earlier today been her childhood bedroom.

Three beds were inside, lined up along one dingy-wallpapered wall, but there was only one person. Rodolphus Lestrange.

Wearing green pajamas, he lay atop the black covers on the bed closest to the black-curtained window, his brown hair wet on the pillow. His green eyes opened upon hearing the door and turned towards the doorway to face Bella, body motionless.

The uniform draped at the end of his bed was black instead of gray. Bella's forehead furrowed in confusion.

"I was promoted." Rod explained, noticing his wife's confusion, "We dueled each other today and the winners get to be in charge of the losers now." There was the faintest hint of pride in his voice.

"Well, I defeated an inferi with fire today." Bella stated, unwilling to let her husband be more successful.

Rod sighed, sitting up in bed. "What are you doing here, Bella?"

"Sleeping." Bella said, "It _is_ my room after all."

She approached the bed between the one where Rod lay and the other empty one, plopping down on it. Though it was identical to the two others, no doubt due to her mother's transfiguration, she was sure the middle one was the twinsize bed she had grown up with.

Rod stood up from the next bed, taking a few steps so that he could sit down next to Bella in hers. Lying on her side, Bella looked up at him, scanning his face for his motive.

But Rod was a normal man. A normal man and her husband. There could only be one motive.

Bella smiled, scooched to make room for him, "What are you doing, Rod?"

"Sleeping." Rod said, "You _are_ my wife after all."

Moving from a seated position, Rod stretched himself out so that he was lying next to Bella, on his side, too, facing her. He smiled back at Bella.

The bed was too small for both of them to lie there comfortably. They were not tiny thirteen year olds anymore.

And Rod was not the scared young teenager too nervous to touch a girl anymore, either. He had not been for over a decade now. His hand reached to pull at the strap of Bella's nightgown from her shoulder as his face leaned forward to kiss her.

The door to the bedroom was still open. This was supposed to be a shared room. But Bella did not care. It was nice to have someone desire her.

Still, while Bella was kissing her husband, she was thinking about how she would sneak out of the room later that night after he had fallen asleep beside her.

"Um, excuse me?"

Bella and Rod's kiss broke, and they turned towards the source of the voice.

Regulus Black stood in the doorway, his dark hair wet from a shower, and his pale face pink from embarrassment at walking in at the wrong moment.

Rod growled in annoyance, sitting up and then returning to his original bed, glaring at Regulus as he did. Bella giggled, still lying down in the middle bed, but rolling over so that she was facing Regulus now.

She noticed that Regulus, wearing black pajamas, held a black uniform. "So you won your duel, too, Reggie?"

Regulus glanced down at his bare feet in shame. "…no. Professor Karkaroff promoted me because I punished my brother."

Bella scoffed. She never understood why Regulus cared so much about his older brother. The Gryffindor was well on his way to becoming a bloodtraitor, that Bella was sure of.

"That's worth a promotion in my opinion." Bella commented.

Regulus grimaced as he started into the bedroom towards the third bed on the other side of Bella. He flopped face first onto it, not even letting go of the black uniform in his hands, face yawning into his pillow.

Rod yawned too, lying down in his bed and closing his eyes again, this time pulling the black covers over himself.

 _Good._ Soon both Rodolphus and Regulus would be asleep, so she could sneak out of the room. Exciting. Illicit. Secret. It was like being a teenager again.

Bella grinned, but quickly covered her mouth as if she, too, was yawning.

She was genuinely tired. It had been a difficult day. But the anticipation and her rapidly beating heart would keep her awake.

Rod waved his wand. The ceilinglamp that had not been doing much to light the room, anyway, clicked off. Now the bedroom was dark, no moon or star light breaching the black curtains of the window on the wall.

"Goodnight." Regulus mumbled into his pillow, still face down.

"Goodnight, Reggie." Bella said, now able to grin openly since nobody could see, "Goodnight, Rod."

"Night." Rod grumbled, probably still annoyed about Regulus interrupting him and Bella.

Bella lay awake in the darkness, just listening to her husband and her cousin breathe, waiting until they fell asleep.

* * *

Bella waited what felt like hours, thought it was probably less than just one. When she was sure Rod and Regulus were asleep, she had crept out of bed, across the floor and out of the bedroom. She had tiptoed past the other bedroom of students, and then down the spiraling steps, one at a time, so that they did not creak.

Now, Bella stood in front of the guestroom door, reaching towards it. Should she knock? No. Knocking would be too loud. So she just turned the doorknob and pushed the door open.

Once again, the guestroom was dark as Bella stepped inside, closing the door behind her. But this time Bella's dark eyes were already adjusted to the darkness.

She could see the desk, the chair, the dresser, the nightstand, the bed— _empty!_ The room was _empty!_

"My lord?" Bella whispered.

No answer.

"My lord?" Bella tried again, slightly louder but still carefully quiet so as not to wake the students sleeping upstairs. She did not care if she woke her parents whose bedroom was also on the second floor.

Still no answer.

Bella squinted, scanning the room as if that would make the Dark Lord Voldemort materialize. It did not. _He_ did not.

…but he still might, Bella hoped.

Bella ventured further into the empty guestroom.

First, towards the desk. Its surface was empty, the quill and parchment gone, Bella would not be able to find out what Lord Voldemort had been writing, earlier.

Then, towards the nightstand. She yanked its drawer open to find the secret inside, but the drawer was empty, just like the room.

Sighing, Bella sank down onto the unoccupied queensize bed.

 _So this was what it was like to be stood up,_ Bella mused. It had never happened to her before.

Was this deliberate? Bella wondered. Had the Dark Lord asked to her to come back her with the intention of not being there himself? But why would he do that? Or had he just changed his mind at the last minute and left? Or gone out hunting with the snake and lost track of time?

Yes. That had to be it. And that mean he would come back later. All Bella had to do was wait.

And so she waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Much longer than she had waited for Rod and Regulus to fall asleep. It felt like days and so it must have been hours.

Where Lord Voldemort was and why he was not here, Bella did not know. But she was definitely going to ask him as soon as she saw him again—if she saw him again. Could he have just left? No, Bella doubted he would just leave right as his fledgling army was beginning to be trained. He would not suddenly abandon his mission of Pureblood Supremacy.

Then, a frightening thought. What if Voldemort was hurt or even killed? Bella worried for a moment, before deciding that that was impossible.

The Dark Lord Voldemort had simply chosen not to be here tonight. There was no uncertainty about that now. Bella was being toyed with, punished, or forgotten. She really hoped it was not forgotten…

In the dark guestroom, Bella yawned. She was getting sleepy again. The disappointment had stifled the any anticipation keeping her awake. She had to go back upstairs, back to her own bed, and sleep, before anyone noticed she was gone.

Bella rose from where she had been seated on the bed and started back towards the door. But just before opening it she stopped, hand hovering above the knob.

Bella's dark eyes turned towards the window. It was closed and covered by curtains. But the curtains could be pushed apart, the window could be opened. _Maybe. Just maybe…_

 _No._ Bella shook her head of long dark hair to herself at her own childish silliness. She knew better than to think the shadow would finally come through the window for her.

Bella turned away from the window and opened the door.


	13. Deprivation

**(1977)**

Voldemort was part of the darkness in the Black manor's guest bedroom. He was invisible, red eyes watching Bellatrix Lestrange sit on his bed waiting for him, stifling her yawns with one hand and forcing her eyes to remain open when she was clearly exhausted.

How long would Bella wait? Voldemort wondered. The answer would determine her level of interest in him; if it was anything beyond a fleeting fancy born of boredom, beyond a desire to have her teenage wish of a shadow coming in from the window to steal her away into the night made real.

Disgusting. Pathetic. The Dark Lord Voldemort was not going to be cheapened into a sexual fantasy.

Did Bella really think his dark magic and power existed to please her? Probably. Everything and everyone else in her world did, apparently.

Well, it was long past time for Bella to learn that she was not always going to get what she wanted. And that lesson would begin tonight.

Seated on the edge of the queensize bed, Bella sighed, chin resting on her palms and elbows resting on her legs. Her dark eyes stared blankly at the dark room, but Voldemort did not need to use legilimency to know that her mind was most likely racing, trying to figure out why he was not there on the bed with her.

How long would it take her to understand that he did not want her? Not the way she wanted him.

Voldemort wanted a student and a soldier. Someone to respect and obey him.

Bella was a powerful witch with much potential, more than he had seen in most of the Durmstrang students decades ago, and certainly more than any of the students participating in the training camp this summer. Now, if only he could cure her of weak and distracting need for sex—or, at least, her annoying attraction for him—Bella would be perfect.

He had made a mistake ever sleeping with her, Voldemort realized. He had thought doing so would get it out of her system, but instead it just made her want an ongoing affair.

When Voldemort was still Tom Riddle, a teenage student at Hogwarts, he desperately wanted a pureblood girl to like him. But now that he finally had a beautiful pureblood woman interested, he had long ago surpassed any interest himself.

Ironic.

* * *

**(1940)**

Tom Riddle was thirteen and his body was rebelling against him. Instead of giving him the growth spurt and deep voice he wanted, it gave him acne and a cracking voice. A potion popular with most of the students at Hogwarts controlled the acne, but Tom never could find a spell to make his voice deep—though there was a spell that stopped the cracking.

The worst part of this body rebellion, though, was girls.

All Tom had to do was see one, smell one, even just think of one and, well, the way his body rebelled was uncomfortable and humiliating. There had been awkward moments in the corridors of Hogwarts in which Tom had to walk with a strategically placed book after noticing a girl flip her long hair.

There had to be a way to control it—to stop it. A spell, a potion…but it would be too embarrassing to ask a professor or even another student what one was or what book to find one in.

And so, Tom had to figure out one on his own. People invented spells all the time, it should be easy…

…except that this was a very sensitive area of the body. If he cut off circulation completely, with the spell, the area would fall off. If he gave it too much circulation it could explode. Maybe that was why there was no spell. Too dangerous.

Or, maybe, it was because when it came to matters of blood, magic had no effect.

After all, there was no spell or potion to turn a halfblood into a pureblood. Tom had looked for one of those, too.

If he became pureblood, the wealthy purebloods in Slytherin would finally accept him. And, the pureblood girls would finally be interested in him.

Pureblood girls were prettier, not because of how they looked but because of what they represented. Only the richest, most successful pureblood men from the oldest, most prominent families married pureblood women. And at school pureblood girls would only ever talk to pureblood boys—if they even talked to boys at all, usually they kept to their own clique, giggling and turning up their noses at everyone else.

A pureblood woman on a man's arm was the ultimate display of status. There was a lot Tom planned to achieve in his life, but no achievement was complete in the Wizarding World without the decoration of a pureblood woman representing success and acceptance into Pureblood Society, where all the power and money was held.

But as of thirteen years old, Tom had not yet achieved anything and so he was reduced to _this_.

It was past midnight. Everyone else in the Slytherin dormitories was asleep. Tom had crept out of bed, made himself invisible with a spell he had not been too embarrassed to ask a professor about, and disabled the security spell that kept boys out of the girls' rooms.

It was dark in the girls' dormitory. There was a hint of a green glow, just like in the boys', but not enough to keep anyone awake.

Tom's eyes had adjusted to the dark and he could see the row of beds with the row of girls asleep beneath the green covers. Which girl was which? Tom did not know and he did not care, as long as the girls he stared at in the dark were pureblood.

For a while, he just watched them sleep, just watched them breathe, to make sure they would not suddenly wake and find him there. Then, when he was sure they were in deep slumber, he slowly reached towards the rebellion in his pajama pants— _no!_

This was pathetic! Desperate! This was what the great Tom Riddle, who would one day be Minister of Magic or Headmaster of Hogwarts or both, was resorting to? No!

Tom yanked his hand away, grabbing it with his other hand to keep it from rebelling like other parts of his body and reaching down again. He should have never come here tonight, his legs had rebelled and brought him here.

The Imperious Curse, Tom thought, all of a sudden. He had been using it from before he even knew what it was. He could pick a girl, lead her away somewhere private, make her do whatever he wanted, then wipe her memory of it later.

…no.

That was even more pathetic and desperate. Wealthy pureblood boys did not have to use the imperio to get girls, pureblood or otherwise.

Tom was already the best student in his year. The girls should have been coming to him, fighting over him. But he was a halfblood and so the pureblood girls did not even acknowledge his existence.

But one day they one. One day everyone would. And anyone who ever wronged him, ignored him, or rejected him would regret it.

All the pureblood girls asleep in the row of beds in front of Tom now would want him one day, he was sure of it, and he would have whichever one he wanted.

* * *

**(1977)**

Of the three beds in a row, only one was occupied. Bella was asleep under the black covers of the middle bed in the room that had used to be her childhood bedroom.

The male students were already outside in the backyard of the Black Manor and had been since sunrise. A few hours later, Bella was still sleeping inside. _Until…_

"Wake up." Voldemort ordered as he walked into the bedroom. It was unlit but cloudy sunlight crept in through the curtained window.

Bella groaned as her dark eyes slowly opened. She stared up at the pale man who had awoken her from where she lay, momentary confusion, before glaring.

"You weren't there last night." She said, sitting up in bed. "Why weren't you there?"

"I'm your lord, you don't have the right to question me." Voldemort replied.

Bella's eyes narrowed at him. _This 'lord' stuff is not as fun when it is not about sex,_ she thought.

"You're forgetting to use Occlumency again, Bella." Voldemort reminded.

"Sorry, I just woke up." Bella apologized. But the smirk on her face—and the thoughts in her mind—indicated that she had wanted him to know exactly what she was thinking.

"You've been spoiled your entire life." Voldemort stated, "That ends now. It's time you learn that you can't have everything you want. The more you want and, the more you need, the more weaknesses you have."

Bella furrowed her pale forehead. "But isn't the point of power to do and have whatever you want?"

"You'll never get to that point without deprivation." Voldemort reasoned. "Now, get so we can begin your lesson for today."

"Alright, just let me eat breakfast first." Bella agreed, pulling the covers off of her as she stood up from the small bed, still in her nightgown.

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. "Weren't you listening? Part of your lesson today is deprivation. For the next twenty four hours you will not eat."

Bella's eyes and mouth widened in surprise then squinched in frustrated acquiescence. "Fine."

"Fine _what?"_ Voldemort raised a dark eyebrow.

"Fine, my lord." Bella corrected herself, voice still grumbling—much like her empty stomach.

* * *

On the grassy back lawn of the Black Manor, the students in gray uniforms had been divided into two teams of four, each led by a student in a black uniform—Regulus and Rodolphus. The teams were competing against each other.

Neither Voldemort nor Bella could discern exactly what the teams were doing on the other side of the fountain, beside the new guesthouse. Standing in front of the wooden shed where they had stored the inferi the evening before, they watched from afar as the uniformed students shout out spells and in pain as they fought.

Bella finally glanced away to pull open the wooden door of the shed. She squinted into the darkness inside, expecting to see the silhouette of the zombie-like creature standing before her.

Instead, she yelped and jumped back as an oddly shaped lump lunged at her from the floor, drawing her wand and pointing it at the attacking lump.

Voldemort turned away from the fighting students to see Nagini exit the shed, stomach full and in the shape of what must have been the muggle inferi, and rise towards the startled Bella.

"Nagini." Voldemort warned in parseltongue.

Nagini hissed and lowered herself down to the grass in front of the shed. Bella did not lower her wand, continuing to point it at the large snake.

"Bella." Voldemort warned in English.

Bella lowered her wand. "Looks like it isn't being deprived of food." She gestured towards Nagini's muggle-shaped stomach.

"You told me this shed was secure, Bella." Voldemort reminded, "Nagini should not have even been able to get in. Now we have to acquire another muggle to create an inferi."

Bella smiled. Voldemort knew she enjoyed capturing muggles.

"Where are we getting one from, my lord?" She inquired.

"I know of a place." Voldemort said.

* * *

The shut-off electricity and the boarded up windows kept the rooms of the abandoned house dark. But the abandoned house was not _really_ abandoned.

Multiple muggles lay sprawled on the stained floors among the trash, dust and used needles. They did not stir when two figures suddenly materialized in the darkened room to the sound of a pop.

The female figure was clutching onto the male figure, hesitant to let go. He shook her hand off of his arm.

Bella's eyes squinted, adjusting to the darkness as they scanned the dim room. Voldemort's eyes did not need to adjust.

"They're dead." Bella said, pointing at the muggle sprawled nearest to her shoes.

"Look closer." Voldemort replied.

Bella lowered herself to examine the body at her feet. It was breathing. She turned her head to glance up at Voldemort in confusion.

"The muggles here are addicted to drugs." He explained, "They're wasting their lives away with a source of pleasure that prevents them from doing anything useful and deteriorates their bodies until they die. A slow suicide."

"Well, if I was a muggle, I'd kill myself, too." Bella snorted. She rose to her full height, prodding the body before her with the tip of her black boot.

The muggle groaned, but his eyes did not open and he did not move. None of the other muggles scattered on the litter-covered floor moved, either.

"This is what happens when you live a life of excess." Voldemort stated.

Bella rolled her eyes. "This is what happens when you're a stupid muggle. We have drugs that don't cause addictions and don't have side effects—though, I doubt you've ever tried them, my lord."

She was correct. Voldemort had never had any interest in drugs, though he was not at all surprised that Bella had used them before.

"No, I haven't." Voldemort sniffed. "Even when I was your age I made better use of my time. How is what you do with yours any better than _this?"_ he gestured at the dirty floor of sprawled muggles, "You have an addiction as well, Bella, it's just a different pleasure you seek. But pleasure should be derived from accomplishment. If you don't accomplish anything, you might as well be a muggle."

Bella grimaced in offense.

Of course. What had she ever accomplished other than stringing along men and torturing muggles? Everything she had of value she was born or married into, just like the majority of the pureblood elite—especially the women.

"How did you know how to find this place?" Bella wondered, changing the subject. She glanced around the dark room again.

There was some damaged furniture and exposed wiring. The walls were spraypainted with graffiti and smeared with what was hopefully blood and not another bodily substance.

"Werewolves and vampires hunt here, and places like this." Voldemort informed. "No one notices when these muggles go missing."

"Why would you associate with halfbreeds like werewolves and vampires?" Bella asked.

"Because they're willing to help overthrow the Ministry." Voldemort replied, "There is a place for them in the new societal structure I will create; above muggles but below wizards."

Bella narrowed her dark eyes in disapproval, but did not openly disagree. Instead she looked at the muggles on the floor, "Which one will we take to make into an inferi, my lord?"

"Why not all of them?" Voldemort decided.

Bella smiled until she saw him raise his wand. Then she got out of the way, hurrying to stand behind him.

Green beams of light blasted around the dark, dirty room. The unmoving bodies remained motionless. It was as if nothing had changed, as if they had been long dead already.

"I would've liked to play with them first." Bella pouted, crossing her arms as she examined the corpses.

"You have more important things to do now." Voldemort dismissed. He raised his wand again.

The inferi rose.

* * *

**(1934)**

There were rows of old cribs in the infant room of Wool's Orphanage, lined against every wall, even against the white-curtained windows overlooking the city of London. The room was dim to allow the babies to sleep, even though it was probably midday and most of the babies were awake and crying.

An awful, grating sound.

Seven year old Tom Riddle covered both ears as he looked into the dimly-lit infant room through its partially-opened doorway. He hated the sound of babies crying even more than the sound of the other children's taunts, but even so he did not leave the doorway and did not stop staring at who else was inside.

Inside infant room there was a couple.

They did not look skinny like the children and even the employees of the orphanage, no, they looked like they had enough food. In addition, the man's black suit and the woman's blue dress were without holes, patches, or any wear and tear. They had money, rare during this worldwide Great Depression.

Money meant survival.

If Tom managed to get adopted by this couple, he would be properly provided for. There was never enough food at the orphanage for all the children, never enough clothing and toys, and never enough adult attention from the few overworked and underpaid employees that favored all other children except for Tom—especially the babies.

All adults favored the babies.

In the arms of the woman was a baby—the only one in the room not crying—she smiled down at it and clutched it close to her chest. The man smiled down at the baby, as well, putting his arm around the woman's shoulders.

A new family was formed.

Tom scowled.

Why did that baby get to be adopted as an infant when Tom had been here much longer? It was not fair! When was it _his_ turn to be adopted? When was it his turn to have a mother and father smile at him?

Why did parents only want babies? Babies were worthless! They were stupid and weak. All they did was cry.

Tom could do so much more, more than even the other children could—more than any _adult_ could! He was better than a baby, better than everyone. All the parents in the world should have been fighting to have him as their child.

So why were they not? Why did they not see how much better he was? He had to make them see.

Removing the hands from his ears, Tom pushed the door open and stomped into the infant room, right up to the man and the woman and the baby. The man and woman could barely pull their gazes away from the baby to glance down at the skinny little boy in confusion.

"That baby is sick." Tom told the man and woman, "All of the babies here are sick. You don't want them."

The man and woman's eyes widened and their brows furrowed. They turned to each other, wondering if the boy in the hand-me-down uniform before them was telling the truth.

Before they could speak, the frazzled matron of the orphanage, Mrs. Cole, rushed from the hallway into the infant room towards the conversation.

"What are you doing, Tom?!" She snapped at the boy, before turning to the adults with the false smile all adults made, "He likes to make up stories—"

"Adopt me, instead!" Tom interrupted to plead, "I can already walk, I can already talk, I'm better than that useless baby—"

"Tom!" Mrs. Cole exclaimed.

She grabbed the seven year old by the arm. He wretched his arm out of her grasp and turned towards the couple again.

"I have magic powers!" Tom attempted, "I do, I really do, I can prove it!"

The couple gaped down at little boy before them. Mrs. Cole glared down at Tom and then smiled over at the couple again.

"He has an active imagination, as you can see." She dismissed, quickly, "Please take your baby to my office down the hall to complete the adoption paperwork. I'll be with you in a moment."

The couple nodded. They turned and took their new child out of the infant room, leaving Tom and all the other babies in the infant room behind.

The other babies were still crying in their cribs.

Tom screamed as another couple and another chance at being adopted escaped, trying to rush after the man and woman, but Mrs. Cole grabbed him, this time by both arms. She was a skinny, aging woman but still much bigger and stronger than the seven year old.

"You'll never get adopted if you keep acting like this!" Mrs. Cole scolded, attempting to hold the screaming and wiggling boy still.

"You sabotaged me!" Tom accused, trying to jerk himself free, "You stopped me from convincing those parents from adopting me!

Mrs. Cole blinked in surprise at such a young child knowing and properly using the word 'sabotage'. Her momentary surprise was enough to allow Tom to burst free from her grasp.

He jumped out of her arms then whirled around to glare at her, adding "You don't want even me to get adopted."

Mrs. Cole scoffed, "Believe me, Tom, you getting adopted is exactly what I want."

"That's just because you don't want me here anymore." Tom spat.

Mrs. Cole did not disagree. Instead, she said "I'm needed in my office now. Behave yourself or you will be punished."

Tom watched her turn, walk away and exit the dimly-lit infant room. It was not until she had left that he let the tears fall from his own eyes as the babies in the cribs continued to cry.

* * *

**(1977)**

There were ten inferi standing idly in a line beneath the afternoon sun in a dusty clearing of the overgrown field nearby the Black Manor. Across from them stood Bellatrix Lestrange and Lord Voldemort.

"But, my lord, I already fought an inferi before." Bella reminded.

"Not without your wand." Voldemort responded.

Bella's eyes widened. _"What?"_

Voldemort smirked.

The feeling of fear and helplessness that came at the thought of losing one's wand—let alone the actual experience—was as universal among witches and wizards as it was overpowering. And so, being the one to take the wand generated an opposite feeling of authority and control that was equally potent.

Voldemort liked that feeling.

"The purpose of this exercise is to acclimate you to the fear of death." He explained, "If you have your wand to protect you, then you won't truly be afraid for your life."

"But you wouldn't just let me die…would you?" Bella checked, narrowing her dark eyes. She glanced at the line of ten inferi before looking at Voldemort again.

No, he would not. He could think of no explanation of her death to the Pureblood Community that would also result in them still supporting him as their Dark Lord.

…but Bella did not need to know that. In fact, this lesson to free her from her fear of death would not work if she did.

"I have no use for a weak soldier." Voldemort said.

Bella raised a thin eyebrow, still skeptical. "So how am I supposed to stop being afraid of death if I die before I can get so used to it that it doesn't scare me anymore?"

"Don't die." Voldemort replied simply, "If you manage to survive being attacked by inferi without your wand to protect you and without any help, then you'll know you can survive anything and you'll no longer have any fear of death."

Bella took a breath, accepting this.

"Now, hand me your wand." Voldemort continue, opening his free hand and stretching it towards her, "I'll give you a five minute headstart, like you do the muggles you chase, then I'll send the inferi after you."

Bella tensed. She was not looking at Voldemort anymore, instead staring at the ten inferi that, though appearing docile now, would soon be hunting her with rabid ferocity. Her fist gripped her wand tightly.

Voldemort raised his wand and with a flick, Bella's wand leaped from her hand, landing in the trampled weeds and dirt. Bella cried out at its loss, reaching towards it until Voldemort's shoe stepped on it.

She looked up at him, expression annoyed at him taking her wand than afraid. But there was fear in her dark eyes. He could see that she was remembering how difficult fighting just one inferi with her wand was—and now she had to evade _ten_ inferi _without_ her wand.

"Run." Voldemort instructed, already raising his wand to move the inferi.

Bella ran.

* * *

Bella and the ten inferi had long since disappeared into the tall grass and tall stalks what must have been an hour ago. Voldemort had directed the inferi to split up, locate her, and surround her. She could be anywhere in this field stretched for miles.

But all Voldemort had to do to find them was follow Bella's occasional scream—except, now, she was no longer screaming.

Was she dead? No. Impossible. Voldemort had specifically enchanted the inferi not to kill or even severely wound Bella. _So where was she…?_

Voldemort trod the path of trampled vegetation made by Bella and her undead pursuers. It zigzagged throughout the cornfield like a maze for an unknown distance and Voldemort was not about to spend hours wandering around it in search of Bella.

Luckily, he did not have to.

All of a sudden, there was a cloud of smoke rising into the cloudy horizon, taller than the stalks and grasses.

Bella had somehow built a fire.

But this fire was deep into the field. It took almost ten minutes for Voldemort to reach it.

When he did, he saw the orange flames devouring a clump of dried grass on the dusty ground of a recently-made clear, separated from the nearby weeds so that they would not catch fire, as well. But he did not see the inferi and he did not see Bella.

The fire had warded off the inferi, that made sense, but where was Bella?

Voldemort's red eyes scanned the clearing. The smoke was white but thick, limiting visibility. A wave of his wand kept the smoke from getting into his eyes and nose.

There was no sign of Bella. She had to be hiding.

"Bella." Voldemort said, loudly enough so that anyone nearby could hear, but quietly enough that he was not calling her name in manner that could be construed as earnestly caring about her location.

No answer.

"Bellatrix." Voldemort tried again, this time a little louder.

Now answer.

Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

He knew that if Bella started the fire she would be nearby it, as it was the only place she was safe from the inferi she believed were trying to kill her. So if he could not see her, that meant she was hiding—either between the stalks and tall grasses or by making herself invisible.

 _Oh._ Voldemort realized. He had not appeared last night in the guestroom when he had promised to meet Bella there and she was upset about that. Was this some kind of retribution?

"Bellatrix, come out right now." Voldemort ordered.

A third time, no answer.

Still, Voldemort expected Bella to jump out from between the cornstalks at any moment to enact her revenge against him for not sleeping with her last night. Except, how would she accomplish that without her wand?

After she had run off, Voldemort had picked up her wand and put it in the pocket of his black robe. Now, with his free hand, he pulled it out and moved to hold it over the small fire.

"If you don't show yourself, I'll throw your wand in the fire." Voldemort threatened.

Only then did he hear a quiet voice call, "I'm here."

It barely sounded like Bella at all. No haughty scoff, no unsubtle sensuality, no cruel playfulness.

Voldemort was surprised. He had never heard Bella sound like that. Even when she had fought inferi yesterday and begged him to call of its attack, her voice was as demanding as it was pleading. Now her voice was just timid fear.

The fear of losing one's wand was only overshadowed by the fear of it being destroyed.

Voldemort's eyes quickly located the source of the voice.

It was crouched behind the smoke, behind the fire, behind a thick patch of tallgrass and cornstalks. It was Bella, on the dusty dirt ground, her legs hugged to her chest. Her body was shuddering in fear even though the inferi were nowhere nearby.

Was she _really_ that afraid? Of course she was. Why would she not be?

Voldemort had almost forgotten that Bella was not raised in the same circumstances he was.

She had never had bullies to chase her and gang up on her because she was different or just because she was a smaller, weaker, easier target. She had never had foreign authorities hunting her through unfamiliar Nordic territory. She had never had any reason to feel true terror.

And so, she never gotten used to being afraid. Perhaps, this was even her first time really feeling fear. Wandless, helpless…

Voldemort liked making people fear him. When they feared him, they recognized his power. But in this situation, Bella was afraid of the inferi (though they were nowhere in sight), not him, and her fear was not a recognition of power but a demonstration of inexperience.

It was easy to scare a child. And when it came to feeling fear instead of causing it, Bellatrix Lestrange was still a child.

She even looked like one now; cowering so small, her eyes so wide. Cute and pathetic. The expression on her face would inspire protectiveness and sympathy in most people. Voldemort felt neither.

However, he did feel…understanding. He had once, so many years ago that it seemed like another life, been afraid, too. And that fear had motivated him to develop his magical abilities and become more powerful.

Bella could do the same. She would never be as powerful as the Dark Lord Voldemort, of course, and it would take a while, but once she did, she would be a more powerful warrior than the child that toyed with the weaker but cowered at the stronger. And, if he could make it so that she feared nothing except for him, then…

A wave of Voldemort's wand put out the small fire and he walked through the smoke towards where Bella crouched, almost completely hidden behind the grass and stalks.

Voldemort stared down at Bella but she did not make eye-contact, instead turning pink in embarrassment.

"Stand up." Voldemort said.

Slowly, Bella rose up from between the stalks and tall grass, like a growing weed. And cautiously, she stepped out, glancing in all directions to make sure there were no inferi surrounding her again. But she still did not make eye-contact with Voldemort's red eyes, instead staring down at the smoky remnants of the fire now behind him.

Bella's black dress was dusty and torn, her black boots were scuffed, and her black hair was matted with leaves and dirty. She looked even worse than she did the day before when she had used her wand to fight the inferi in this same cornfield.

"How can I get used to fearing death like this, my lord?" Bella said, tone of voice shaky but respectful, "This has made me more afraid of death—and of anything—than I've ever been in my entire life."

"Good." Voldemort stated, "It's the only way you'll surpass it."

Now Bella looked up at him, dark eyes questioning "Has something like this ever happened to you, my lord? Is that how you learned not to fear death?"

There was reverence in her voice, before she even heard the answer.

Reverence because the Dark Lord Voldemort was the one who could call off the inferi or set them on her again. Reverence because he seemed to feel no fear. Reverence he deserved.

It almost made Voldemort want to tell Bella the truth about how he had overcome his fear of death by removing the possibility of death in his life. If she knew, she might finally see him as the god he was because gods could not die.

But he did not.

Instead he said, "When I was training with the Grindelwald Loyalists in Scandinavia authorities from the region and from Germany pursued us everywhere we went. They had orders to kill on sight. After months of being hunted, it became so commonplace that I was no longer afraid when we were caught up to and had to battle our way out of execution. I stopped fearing death because I've never encountered anything or anyone powerful enough to kill me."

"But I'm not as powerful as you, my lord." Bella reminded.

"No, you're not." Voldemort agreed, "But you can become _almost_ as powerful as me. And if you do, then the only thing you'll have to fear is me. No one else and nothing else, not even death. Only me."

Bella nodded her head of long dark hair, messy and dirty from her evasion of the inferi.

"Now, you're going to have to endure this again, Bella." Voldemort continued, "You're going to have to flee from inferi and fight for your life as many times as it takes until you're no longer afraid of them—afraid of dying."

"Please, no!" Bella exclaimed suddenly. Hastily, she rephrased, "I mean, please, my lord, give me a chance to recover. This is enough for one day, let me try again tomorrow."

Her dark eyes were wide with fear and begging. It was really strange to see her like this. _Strange,_ but not unpleasant…

"When I first met you I never would've guessed you were such a coward." Voldemort commented, "Defying and controlling your parents, manipulating your husband and other men, toying with and torturing muggles…was it all just a façade to hide the scared little girl?"

"…no…" Bella denied, though sounding unsure.

Bella's pale forehead furrowed and her red lips grimaced, indicating discomfort and shame at his comment. But her dark eyes…

It was hard for Voldemort to read faces yet easy for him to read minds with Legilimency. Bella was not using Occlumency at the moment, in her fear she had forgotten and Occlumency was not yet an automatic function, like breathing, as it was to Voldemort.

Bella hated being seen as vulnerable and being vulnerable. But at the same time she liked that Voldemort saw her as vulnerable and made her vulnerable.

Such conflicting feelings. It did not make sense to Voldemort.

When someone believed that he was vulnerable, he would seek to correct that by displaying his power. And if someone tried to make him vulnerable, then that person would end up dead as soon as possible.

So why would Bella revel in a vulnerability to him that she would despise to anyone else? Voldemort guessed that it had something to do with her attraction for him. In that way, her lust was useful. She probably would have never even let him take her wand if she did not long for the approval from him she hoped would motivate him to sleep with her again.

"Then prove it." Voldemort replied. "Fight for your life again, until you're no longer afraid of losing it."

Bella tensed in fear and discomfort, however she nodded again. "Alright…I will." She then, carefully added, "But may I please have my wand back this time?"

Voldemort almost snorted. Instead he just eyed her skeptically.

"Bella." He tested.

Bella sighed in surrender, looking at Voldemort and then at the field surrounding them.

"I'll start running." She said.

In the dim light of the setting sun, it was difficult to distinguish Bella from the crowd of ten inferi amassing towards the Black Manor. She looked as disheveled and lifeless as they did, shuffling across the green from lawn, away from the field behind them.

The only difference was that Bella was breathing, quickly and shallowly. She walked on aching legs behind the inferi, dark eyes staring straight ahead, watching them all, just in case they sprang into action and attacked her again.

Voldemort walked behind them all, directing the movement of the inferi with his wand but watching Bella.

After the first few hours, she had stopped screaming when the inferi chased her. And after that, she had even stopped hiding, instead running until she ran out of breath and energy and collapsed.

But once she collapsed, she always used wandless magic to force the inferi off of her and create a fire to keep them away. She was still afraid. For now.

Eventually there would be a day when she would not bother pushing the inferi off of her and making that fire, when she would just collapse and lie there, letting the inferi overrun her. It could take weeks or it could take years, but it would happen.

Voldemort had seen the most powerful warriors among the Grindelwald Loyalists kill themselves rather than be captured or fight back against the authorities instead of fleeing when they knew that it would result in them being killed, so that they would die in a 'blaze of glory'. In the end, they all grew tired of running and hiding from death. Just like the third Peverell brother, Ignotus, who foolishly and cowardly gave up his Cloak of Invisibility and along with it, his chance at immortality.

Everyone always gave in to death—everyone except Lord Voldemort. That was made him different. _Better._ He had stopped fearing death because he had conquered it. Everyone else stopped fearing death because they surrendered to it.

How long it took Bella to surrender would be a judge of her promise as a soldier. Too soon, then she was weak. Too long and she would not be willing to give her life for the cause—and, more importantly, for Voldemort.

The three floors of the manor loomed ahead, the orange sunset and the gray clouds behind it.

Voldemort, Bella and the inferi were heading not towards the front door of the Black Manor, but to the side of the building where the slanted doubledoors that led to the cellar were. The wooden shed was too small to fit all ten inferi (and accessible to Nagini) but Bella had been certain that the cellar was large enough.

It was the clump of inferi that reached the doors first, idling in front of them, bumping into the wood or the others, like the mindless beings they were. Bella remained behind them, unwilling and too afraid to push through the inferi to open the cellar doors.

She glanced back at Voldemort, who had stopped behind her, her eyes asking him to wave his wand so that the inferi would part for her. His wand remained still and his expectant eyes told her she would have to get to the door without aid.

Bella tensed, took a breath and pushed through the inferi towards the wooden double doors. The inferi yielded, docile, not even noticing that they were being pushed. Bella pulled open both doors with both hands.

Voldemort had not yet given Bella her wand back yet, it remained in the pocket of his black robe.

She stood aside. Beyond the now open doors were stone steps leading down to the darkness of the cellar.

Voldemort waved his wand.

The ten inferi filed through the doors and down the stairs. When they had all disappeared into the dark Bella sighed in relief, even smiling despite being too tired to otherwise emote as she moved to close the doors behind them.

"No." Voldemort prevented.

Bella stopped. Her head turned to face him, a confused expression on her tired and smudged face. She began to open her mouth to speak but then let it fall shut as if she was too exhausted to speak.

"You'll stay down there with the inferi tonight." Voldemort told her.

Bella blinked.

It took a moment for her to comprehend what he had said. Once she understood, though, it warranted words from her hoarse and out-of-breath voice.

"But I—" she started to protest, then changing her mind and asking, _"Why?"_

"Deprivation." Voldemort stated, "You'll have no soft bed to sleep on in the cellar, no blanket to keep you warm, just the stone floor. Depriving you of comfort will make you stronger."

"But the inferi!" Bella cried, weakly, glancing away from him, through the open cellar doors, down at the darkness below where she knew the inferi waited.

"Acclimation." Voldemort replied.

Bella grimaced. "I won't be able to sleep. Not with them down there with me. Not when they could attack me again—"

Bella was interrupted by Voldemort reaching into his robe pocket and pulling out her wand. He held it out to her and she immediately and eagerly snatched it like an underfed animal would a scrap of food. After all, a wand was an extension of the wizard or witch, it was like reattaching a lost limb.

Voldemort had to do that one kind gesture for Bella, now, and so he had given her back her wand. He had been strict with her all day, but he could not be so harsh that she decided that the pain of learning from him was not worth the eventual reward.

Still, she needed to be more polite about getting her wand back. She had only been without it less than a day.

Voldemort eyed Bella as she clutched her wand to her chest, eyes wide in surprise at having it returned, happiness at holding it in her hands, and fear at the possibility of it being taken away again. No gratitude.

"I've given you back your wand, Bella, aren't you grateful?" He inquired, tone indicating that she most definitely should be and should express it.

"Yes." Bella nodded, "Thank you, my lord."

Voldemort smiled.

He wondered if she would ever let him take her wand from her again. She would, of course, if he wanted her to. He would make her. But would she put up more resistance, next time, or less?

"Now go." Voldemort instructed, gesturing at the opened doubledoors with his now free hand.

Bella nodded. Clutching her wand tightly in her shaking hand. She turned and descended the stone steps into the darkness.

* * *

**(1928)**

Boy did not even know his name, no one even called him by it. No one ever called any of the babies in the infant room by name. All of them were just 'baby'. The same. They all lay in their identical cribs in the dark and they all cried. The same. They were all hungry.

Boy was hungry. No, Boy was the hungriest. Boy was different. _Better._ He was the biggest in the infant room. The oldest. He could understand what the adults were saying, and sometimes he could even talk, too. He could do so much more than the other smaller, weaker babies.

And yet, it was the baby next to him that was rising from its crib, not Boy. Lady was picking the other baby up to be held, and rocked, and fed, and all Boy could do was watch from behind the bars of his own crib, trapped below, hungry and alone.

Lady hummed as she held the bottle to the other baby's lips. The other baby sucked at it fervently, taking all the formula for himself.

But Boy was hungry, too! Why was he not being fed? He deserved the food more than the other babies did. He was the hungriest. And he was the best.

And if he did not eat, he would die.

But…but if the other baby did not eat, then _Boy_ would be able to eat. If the other baby died, then _Boy_ would be able to live.

Yes. The other baby had to die so that Boy could live. It was the only way for Boy to survive.

_Die…Die…Die…_

Suddenly, the other baby coughed. Sputtered. It was choking on the formula in its throat, on the bottle in its mouth.

_Die. Die. Die._

Quickly, Lady pulled the bottle away from the other baby, patted it sharply on the back until it burped, and then set it back down in the confines of its crib.

After that, she left the room. But when she returned, it was with a bottle for Boy.

Now, Boy was the one being picked up and fed. Eagerly he drank from the bottle.

But he did notice how Lady did not hold him as closely as she had held the other baby, and how she did not bother to rock him or hum.

Boy did not care.

He just drank and drank and drank. Hungry. Hungry. Hungry—none left.

Boy wailed, smacking the empty bottle away from his mouth and out of Lady's hand. It sailed across the sim infant room and landed with a smack on the hardwood floor.

"More!" Boy demanded, "Hungry!"

"Bad, Tom." Lady scolded.

'Bad, Tom' was a word Boy was not yet sure the meaning of, other than that Lady only used it when she was upset with him. Boy did not mind if Lady was upset so long as he got fed.

Lady gave Boy a stern look as she dropped him back into his crib. He stood up on the cushion, holding onto the bars and gazing over them to watch as Lady passed the other cribs to get to where the empty, useless bottle had landed.

She picked it up and exited the infant room.

When she returned again, it was with another bottle. Boy could see it was full with formula and he was hungry.

He reached towards it as Lady approached, but Lady walked right past him, taking the bottle with her. She stopped at the crib on the other side of Boy, picking up the other baby inside of it and gently pressing the bottle to its lips.

"No!" Boy yelled, "Hungry!"

Lady ignored him, humming as she rocked and fed the other baby. The other baby that was eating the food Boy needed to live. The other baby that deserved to die.

_Die! Die! Die!_

The other baby continued to suck the formula from the bottle uninhibited as Lady cradled it in her arms and sang to it.

But the next morning, when Lady returned to feed the babies in the infant room, they were all dead.

…All except for Boy who was waiting expectantly, as usual, in his crib for the bottle of formula.

"Hungry." He declared.

Wide-eyed and silent, Lady stepped into the dim infant room. She gasped and dropped the bottle from her hand, which rose to cover her mouth. The bottle smacked the floor, its formula spilling across the wood beside her, soaking into her long skirt.

Lady could tell before she even looked at the babies, before she even checked their cold bodies for pulses, that they were all dead. She could tell because none of them were crying and before they had _always_ been crying.

"My god…" Lady murmured from behind her hands covering her mouth.

"…God…"Boy repeated to himself, quietly, inside the crib that would not always be a cage to hold him.

_Maybe that was his name…_

* * *

**(1977)**

Hours later, when the night outside was as dark as the windowless cellar of the Black Manor, Voldemort returned to the underground room beneath the three floors above. He entered through the door beside the pantry, rather than the slanted doubledoors on the side of the house.

In the wide, dark cellar, Voldemort's red eyes could see the ten inferi standing motionless, not awake and not asleep. They clumped together as if they needed the warmth, even though it was a summer night and inferi were unaffected by all elements except the extreme heat of fire.

But where was Bella?

Curled in the corner, back against the walls, was Bellatrix Lestrange.

Her knees were held to her chest, like they had been when she had crouched in the cornfield, but only by one arm this time. Her head rested atop her knees, eyes closed.

She was sleeping.

This surprised Voldemort. With all the fear and adrenaline Bella had experienced earlier, how had she been able to fall asleep? It must have been absolute exhaustion, he realized, not just from fleeing the inferi but from fearing them, too, fearing death.

But, even so, she had not given up. She had not surrendered to death.

Bella's arm was slumped at her side, limp, but her fingers still tightly gripped her wand, and her wand still pointed at the inferi even as it lay partially on the stone floor. She had fallen asleep ready to fight.

He would see how long this would last, Voldemort decided to himself. He took one last look the sleeping Bella before leaving her in the dark cellar again.


	14. Puppet Army

It was the sound of the footsteps coming down stairs and voices drawing closer that awoke Bella. Her dark eyes opened and faced the darkness, her body aching from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position in…where was she, again? Oh, right, the cellar.

The cellar?! With the inferi!?

Bella leaped up from the cold stone floor, raising her already pointed wand at the forms of the inferi mass standing in front of her, barely visible in the dark underground room.

Suddenly, there was light.

Bella squinted at it. It came from the doorway to the cellar from the outside of the Black Manor.

The light was glowing from the wand of the Durmstrang professor with the strange name she could never remember. Next to the professor stood her own teacher Lord Voldemort. They stood at the bottom of the stone steps.

"What is she doing down here?" The Durmstrang professor wondered in his accented voice.

"It's part of her training." Voldemort explained.

"I still am unable to understand why you think training a woman is a good idea." The Durmstrang professor muttered.

Voldemort did not reply to this. Instead his pale face and red eyes turned to Bella.

"It's been twenty four hours." He said, "You may eat now, Bella."

Bella blinked in surprise. She had forgotten she was hungry but as soon as she had heard the word 'eat' her stomach began to churn painfully with emptiness.

She realized that hunger, in addition to exhaustion from fleeing the inferi, was the reason she had passed out asleep in the cellar, even with the undead she was so afraid of standing right before her.

Bella nodded, "Thank you, my lord."

But now, because the two men were blocking the stairs up to the outside by standing in the doorway, Bella had to pass through the herd of inferi to get to the other staircase leading up to the inside of the manor.

She was afraid. But she would not show it, not with the Durmstrang professor who underestimated her because she was a woman watching. If she showed fear in front of him, it would not only embarrass her, but embarrass the Dark Lord for choosing her as his student and maybe make him rethink that choice.

* * *

And so Bella held her head high and her body unwavering as she pushed through the crowd of ten dead muggle inferi on her way to the other set of stairs. Still, she also held her wand ready.

Once again, at sunrise, the ten students were lined up on the back lawn of the Black Manor. But this time another line of ten figures faced them.

It was strange. The figures looked human…except that their skin was turning gray and the features of their faces seemed to be dissolving into their skulls. Their muggle clothing hung from their skinny bodies, muscle and fat wasting away.

Regulus knew what they were.

He had seen one before when he had met the Dark Lord for the first time two days ago. Bella had told him what an inferi was _and_ that the way to defeat one was with fire.

The zombie-like creatures were standing idly across from the students who eyed them in fear and confusion, glancing at and muttering to each other, but too afraid to move or speak too loudly, in case their motion or volume somehow triggered these weird things.

Regulus, in his black uniform, glanced at the gray-uniformed boys on the team he had been put in charge of; his older brother Sirius, Evan Rosier, Alvin Avery and Mordred Mulciber. They all looked confused.

Then, Regulus looked at the other team. Rodolphus Lestrange's team. Rodolphus' younger brother Rabastan, Lucius Malfoy, Amycus Carrow and Igor Karkaroff (whose uniform was gray now). They all looked confused, too—except for Rodolphus.

Rodolphus, also in a black uniform, was staring at the line of inferi like he knew what they were. Bella must have told him, too.

For an instant, Regulus was annoyed. He wanted to be the one Bella told things to. But then he reminded himself that Rodolphus was Bella's husband. Of course, she would tell him things. She had to as his wife. But Regulus had been her cousin longer than she had been Rodolphus' wife…

The third male in a black uniform marched across the green grass towards the ten students and the ten inferi. Professor Karkaroff.

Regulus wondered if the gray-haired man was the one who had created these inferi.

Professor Karkaroff stopped in front of the students, between them and the inferi. The students were surprised that he would turn his back to the scary-looking creatures.

"Good morning, soldiers." He barked in a heavy accent.

"Good morning, sir!" All the students shouted in unison, as they had been taught to do in the three prior days of their training.

Many of their voices were hoarse. They had also been instructed to be silent unless spoken to by a superior. Only the students in black uniforms, Regulus and Rodolphus, could speak, and only to wake their teams up at dawn and get them outside for training.

"Do you know the one thing that separates a man from a boy?" Professor Karkaroff asked.

If he asked a question, the students were allowed to speak. As long as they raised their hands.

Mordred raised his hand. "Losing your virginity, sir."

He, Alvin and Evan all snickered. Sirius rolled his eyes, though his mouth was fighting a smile.

Regulus forced himself to chuckle even though he would probably get in trouble for it, because if he did not then his two older friends might figure out that he was still a virgin.

Professor Karkaroff narrowed his eyes. "No. Twenty pushups."

The standard punishment for a wrong answer combined with the standard punishment for joking around. And when one student in a team broke a rule, the entire team was punished.

Regulus and his team groaned, but reluctantly lowered themselves to the grass to complete their pushups. They counted aloud each pushup in unison. One, two, three, four, five…and so on.

Professor Karkaroff watched, making sure their form was correct. Rodolphus' team watched, holding back their laughter and smiles so that they would not be forced to do the same exercise.

The line of ten inferi stood mindless and motionless, like trees on a windless day. The sun continued to rise in the pink and orange sky behind the sparse gray clouds above.

When Regulus and his team were upright again, arms sore and taking deep breaths, Professor Karkaroff repeated his question.

"What is the true test of manhood?" He asked.

Regulus saw Mordred and Alvin glance at each other, grinning silently. Still, their silence meant that they had decided whatever inappropriate joke they were thinking of was not worth more pushups.

Karkaroff's son Igor, on the other team, raised his hand. "Killing someone."

"Yes." Professor Karkaroff accepted, "Killing someone, killing someone in battle. That is what turns a boy into a man."

Sirius was rolling his gray eyes again. Regulus agreed with him this time. _Why should killing be what was required to become a man?_

"Today," Professor Karkaroff continued in his accented voice, "You will be practicing fighting to the death and killing, against these reanimated corpses called 'inferi'," he gestured at the undead muggles behind him, "so that when the time comes for you boys to become men, the transition will be easy."

All then students blinked in surprise. _Fighting to the death?! Killing?!_

Lucius Malfoy spoke, not bothering to raise his hand first. "This is undignified. Dueling is a refined sport, but battling those creatures—"

"There is nothing more dignified than killing an enemy." Professor Karkaroff interrupted, "But war is not a 'sport', nor should it be. Ten pushups. The entire team."

The standard punishment for speaking out of turn without raising a hand. And when one teammate broke a rule, the whole team was punished.

Rodolphus, Rabastan, Igor and Amycus glared at Lucius as they lowered themselves to the grassy ground to complete their ten pushups. Lucius was the last and the slowest to lower himself, no doubt thinking that pushups were undignified as well.

The team counted their pushups aloud. The other team watched silently grimacing to keep from laughing.

When Rodolphus' team had finished their pushups and were standing again, Professor Karkaroff stepped out from between the ten students and the ten inferi.

"These inferi have been enchanted to kill you." He explained, "You must kill them first."

Sirius' hand shot up towards the pink and orange sunrise. "But they're already dead."

"Then you should have no moral qualms with killing them." Professor Karkaroff reasoned.

Sirius lowered his hand but grumbled, "Someone had no moral qualms killing them while they were alive…"

Regulus and his other teammates tensed, bracing themselves for the order to do more pushups. No such order came.

Instead, Professor Karkaroff just shrugged. "Muggle life has no value."

Regulus and his team sighed in relief. Except for Sirius still tense and glaring at the statement the professor had just made.

It bothered Regulus, too, it was not like muggle life had _no_ value—just less value than wizard and witches' lives. There was a 'food chain' of sorts, a natural order, at least that was what he had been taught.

"The inferi feel no pain and they will be unrelenting." Professor Karkaroff continued. "You must destroy them in order to survive."

Now, it was Regulus who raised his hand. "But you can call them off, sir, right?"

Professor Karkaroff shook his head. His gray hair and his gray goatee shook, too.

"No." he said, "I did not create them and I am not the one controlling them."

"…the Dark Lord…" Regulus muttered in realization.

His dark eyes glanced around the backyard in search of the pale and skinny red-eyed man. There was no one standing by the stone fountain, no one behind the bushes destroyed after being used for target practice, and no one next to the wooden shed (Regulus doubted someone like the Dark Lord would be hiding in a rundown shed).

Then, Regulus looked up towards the Black Manor. There. A figure in the window of the second floor, just like the first day of training.

So that is where the Dark Lord was. He was watching and controlling the inferi from afar.

But then there was another, shorter figure in the window. _Who?_

Regulus squinted his dark eyes, trying to see who it was.

But before he could figure it out, there was a shout. Startled, Regulus whirled towards its source beside him, a wide-eyed Evan Rosier, and then towards what Evan was gaping and shouting at.

The inferi were rushing towards them.

* * *

After eating and then showering, Bella chose a conservative black dress to wear. She would have even put a robe on over it except that it was summertime and so too warm for the extra layer.

Dressing skimpily would not attract Lord Voldemort, Bella knew that by now. The only thing he seemed to appreciate was powerful magic and so to earn his approval, and perhaps even his affection, she would have to somehow get over her inborn fear of death and raise the dead.

How she would actually manage to do that, though, she was not sure. But it was possible. It had to be. After all, the Dark Lord was able to do it.

Bella found him in the guestroom. She had knocked on the door politely, and the door had opened by itself to reveal the Dark Lord Voldemort standing in front of the only source of light in the otherwise dim room, the window.

Slowly and carefully, Bella stepped into the guestroom, closing the door behind her and then crossing the hardwood floor towards him and the window.

She could see his back, black not only because of the black robe he wore but also because of the contrast between the light coming in through the window making him into a silhouette.

"My lord." Bella said.

Lord Voldemort did not reply but he did step slightly to the side so that Bella could stand beside him at the window.

Outside on the back lawn, the ten students were lined up across from the ten inferi. From the distance and the height of the second story window, the ten figures of the students and the ten figures of the inferi looked almost identical, facing each other.

Mirror images.

Bella smiled to herself. If the boys were fighting the inferi today that meant she would not have to run wandless from them through the field again today. _Her lord was merciful!_

In her peripheral vision, Bella saw the Dark Lord raise his wand. Then, through the window she was facing, she saw the inferi rush across the grass towards the students. The shouts from below were audible on the second floor of the Black Manor.

"Are they being acclimated to the fear of death?" Bella asked.

"No." Voldemort answered, "They're being acclimated to killing. By destroying the undead, they'll prepare themselves for killing the living."

"Killing isn't hard." Bella scoffed, flipping her long dark hair behind her shoulder.

Bella could not even remember the first time she had killed something. It had probably been some small animal, and probably after torturing it first. Killing was so easy it was boring. She felt nothing when she killed. It was the torturing she enjoyed.

The first time she had tortured a muggle was when some muggle teenager from the nearby muggle town had dared to wander into her family's field. She had chased him, and practiced hexes and curses on him until he died. Then she had decided she liked it enough to make a game of it, and so captured another muggle the next night. She was seventeen.

That was seven years ago. Now the game was less exciting but Bella continued playing because there was nothing better do—at least until Lord Voldemort arrived.

Voldemort nodded in agreement. "For the strong, no. But for the weak…" His red eyes remained trained on the students on the other side of the window below.

The ten students and then inferi looked small from where he and Bella stood above. Random spells flew from the wands of the students who then gaped in shock as the inferi remained unaffected.

But then there was fire.

Flames blasted from two wands. Bella could tell, even from far away, that the wands belonged to her husband Rodolphus and her cousin Regulus. They were the only ones she had told that fire was the method of defeating the inferi, other than her mother.

"Those two figured out to use fire much faster than you did." Voldemort commented. He was still not looking at her, watching the students fighting the inferi in the backyard below.

"Only because I told them about it." Bella stated, quickly. She did not want him to think that she was less capable than her cousin, husband or anyone.

Now all the students below were using fire spells to defend themselves against the inferi. The undead creatures began to fall to the flames.

"And as a result their training with the inferi will be shorter than expected," Voldemort replied, "and you'll have time to resume yours this afternoon."

Bella grimaced. She should not have been so eager to brag about beating one inferi with fire. Now she would have to flee ten of them again, after all. Unless…

"Isn't there any other way?" Bella wondered, "Or maybe it's not my fear of death preventing me from using the spell—"

"The spell itself is not as important as you learning not to fear death." Voldemort interrupted. "I can create all the inferi I need myself. What I need is soldiers who aren't afraid to die."

Bella took a moment to do a mental calculation then speaking. "My lord, I've seen you create fourteen inferi. That's fourteen years off of your life, according to the deal made with Death. How can you _not_ fear death when at least fourteen years of your life have been taken?"

Now it was the Dark Lord who took a moment. He furrowed his pale forehead in thought before saying, "Wizards and witches have very long lifespans. Fourteen years is nothing when one can live for centuries."

Bella was not convinced. Everyone in her family died young—younger than many muggles did, even. Both sets of her grandparents had died in their sixties.

"Fourteen years seems like a long time to me…" Bella said.

"Only because it's more than half your life at your age." Voldemort reasoned, "When you get older your perspective will change."

"But won't yours if you make more inferi, my lord?" Bella inquired, "Fourteen years may not be a lot to you but surely twenty would be."

"As long as I achieve my goals, it won't matter how many years are taken from my life." Voldemort dismissed.

Bella looked away from the window to eye him. His expression was unreadable as he remained focused on the lesson occurring on the other side of the window two stories down.

_Was he telling the truth? Would he really trade decades of his life in order to achieve Pureblood Supremacy?_

Bella just could not comprehend how anyone would be willing to die for anything; person, possession, or cause. What was the point of success if one did not live long enough to enjoy it?

Selflessness.

It was something Bella never understood nor appreciated. It seemed stupid and it was not the most Slytherin of traits, either.

Still, what else could explain a halfblood fighting for the supremacy of purebloods? So if that was selflessness in this case, Bella would have to respect it.

Yes, her lord was selfless and willing to die for his cause. How admirable! How brave! No wonder he did not fear death, he had something more important to him than his own life.

Bella blinked herself out of her swooning when Lord Voldemort finally turned his head to face her after she had been staring at him too long.

"It seems as if the students have defeated all the inferi." Voldemort noted, gesturing at the window in front of him and Bella.

Outside on the ground below all the inferi had fallen. The uniformed students stood around them as smoke rose up past the second story window, towards the sky.

"Why don't we go congratulate them?" Voldemort continued, "And, of course, collect the inferi for your training."

A small smirk.

Apparently the Dark Lord found it amusing to watch Bella flee in terror from the inferi without even her wand to protect her. Apparently he found the expression of apprehension on her face a musing, as well.

 _That_ Bella could understand—enjoying causing the fear of others was something she could understand since it was something that she did herself. _That_ Bella could easily appreciate—even though she was the one afraid in this situation.

She had never thought she would ever meet somebody who killed and caused pain as remorselessly as she did. She had felt special being the only one before, but now it felt both exciting and comforting to finally know someone similar to her.

If Bella could make Lord Voldemort realize that they were the same then he would want her as much as she wanted him. Her only chance of that, Bella reminded herself, would be to demonstrate powerful magical ability; to get over her fear of dying and successfully create inferi.

And so, Bella masked her fear with forced eagerness, readying herself for being wandless and running for her life again.

"Of course." She smiled.

* * *

The sun had risen in the gray-blue sky by the time the inferi lay on the ground of the Black Manor's backyard. The grass beneath them was charred and all their hair and muggle clothing had been burned away to reveal burned and grayish bodies that resembled skeletons more than naked humans.

The eight students in gray uniforms and two students in black uniform gathered around the sprawled inferi, daring to come close once the creatures stopped moving. They gaped down at the enemies they defeated had defeated with wide eyes.

There was a mixture of shock, satisfaction, and regret on their faces. Somehow it was possible to be in disbelief of what they had done, proud and also ashamed. The inferi were dead already, the students knew, but it still felt as if they had killed them.

"Look at those burns." Amycus Carrow said, pointing at the red, blackened and blistered skin of an inferi.

"That one's twitching." Alvin Avery nudged Mordred Mulciber. They both chuckled.

"Disgusting." Lucius Malfoy commented, eyeing the fallen inferi with disdainful silver eyes and holding covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief.

The smoke rising carried the uncomfortable scent of burned flesh.

Regulus bristled. He looked away from the pile of inferi on the grass, over at his older brother Sirius.

Sirius was the only one not approach the burned bodies. He gazed at them, and the other students, from afar in agitation. His gray eyes were narrowed and his mouth was scowling.

"They were people, you know." he reminded, folding his arms, "They had lives, families—"

"They were already dead." Regulus tried.

"Not before the so called 'Dark Lord' killed them." Sirius replied.

"You don't know that for sure." Regulus reasoned, "They might've been from a muggle morgue or a graveyard, maybe."

Sirius snorted. "Yeah sure. And our mother'll invite a muggle family over for dinner, too."

"Sirius—" Regulus attempted.

"This is just beginning and you know it." Sirius continued, "First he has us kill these inferi things, next it'll be live muggles, and then it'll be other wizards and witches. Lord whatever-his-name-is wants a wants a war and he wants _us_ to be his army, not thinking for ourselves, just blindly taking orders and killing whoever we're told to."

Before Regulus could respond, Professor Karkaroff strode up to the students stroking his gray goatee as he admired the pile of burning twice-dead corpses.

"Good work." He congratulated gruffly. "You never would have had the opportunity to learn this at Hogwarts."

"And for good reason, too." Sirius muttered.

His fists were clenched and so were his teeth. Regulus could see his older brother was getting angry and whenever Sirius got angry someone got hurt.

Professor Karkaroff tensed at Sirius' comment. "What did you say, boy?" he snapped, turning towards the gray-uniformed teenager.

The rest of the students turned towards the two. Just as Sirius was opening his mouth to reply, Regulus jumped between him and the professor.

"He didn't say anything, sir." Regulus attempted.

"Oh, he heard me." Sirius said, anyway, "And I have more to say—"

"Sirius, stop." Regulus pleaded, dark eyes wide, facing his brother.

Sirius did stop. But not because Regulus had asked him to. He stopped because he was staring at something—someone.

Regulus saw Sirius' gray-eyed gaze looked past Regulus, past Professor Karkaroff, and past the smoking pile of defeated inferi and right at the two figures dressed in black walking down the cobblestone pathway away from the Black Manor and towards the students, their teacher, and the inferi.

Bella and the Dark Lord.

Sirius glared, already stomping towards them. Regulus grabbed his arm to pull him back but Sirius shoved him off, stepping around the sprawled inferi and continuing in the direction of his targets, wand already drawn.

"You murdered those muggles, admit it!" Sirius shouted, pointing at the burned and fallen inferi with his free hand. His wand hand and his wand pointed at the Dark Lord.

The other students gaped. There were several gasps. Even Professor Karkaroff was too stunned to immediately order a punishment for such aggressive disrespect.

The Dark Lord Voldemort eyed Sirius, glanced at Bella standing a few steps behind him, then finally turned to Professor Karkaroff.

"Ingvar, control your student." was all the Dark Lord said.

Karkaroff blinked then nodded at the Dark Lord.

"Fifty pushups." He ordered. "Every single one of you. Now!"

Instantly, Regulus dropped to the ground. He had to show how obedient and respectful he was to make up for his older brother's disobedience and disrespect. He did not want the Dark Lord to judge him negatively based on his brother's actions.

Almost all the other students lowered themselves onto the grass pretty quickly, as well.

"Pushups?" Bella sniffed dismissively down at the students on the ground, "That's so muggle."

"Being reduced to physical exercise like a muggle is an effective punishment." The Dark Lord explained. "Humiliation in addition to exertion."

But the students were not yet doing their pushups and counting aloud. They were not supposed until all the students were on the ground.

Sirius was still standing.

Regulus looked up at his brother. "Sirius, just do it! Come on!" he hissed.

Sirius shook his head of shaggy dark hair.

"No." he refused, glancing down at Regulus.

Regulus slowly stood up from the ground. So did the other students.

Sirius then looked at Professor Karkaroff, "No. I'm done with these stupid pushups and I'm done with this stupid training."

Karkaroff opened his mouth to respond but before he could, Sirius turned towards to the Dark Lord.

"What's wrong with you?!" Sirius demanded, "This is sick! Killing muggles? Raising the dead? Pureblood Supremacy? It's sick. _You're_ sick—"

Bella was screaming. She started towards Sirius, drawing her wand.

"How dare you talk to the Dark Lord that way?!" Bella screeched, "I always knew you were a bloodtraitor, you Gryffindor scum. Just wait until I tell your mummy what you said—"

"Tell her, I don't care!" Sirius exclaimed, turning his wand on Bella, "All of your heads are so far up your arses that there are literally dead people on the ground and none of you see anything wrong with that!" With his free hand he motioned to the burned inferi sprawled on the grass, also glancing over in their direction.

As soon as he did, his wand was blasted out of his hand and he was blasted to the ground. Bella moved to stand over him aiming her own wand, the one that had struck him, at his startled face.

"Silly little boy, you're the one who's wrong." Bella sneered. "You've been given the gift of magic—of pure blood—and you're wasting it worrying over some worthless dead muggles? Crucio!"

Red light shot from Bella's wand at Sirius. As soon as it hit, he yelled in pain, eyes bulging and muscles tensing.

Regulus jolted.

 _The Cruciatus Curse?_ Bella was using the Cruciatus Curse? _No!_ There was no way! She was, well, _intense_ but she would never break the law… _would she?_

Regulus had seen Bella be mean before. She had always been especially mean to Sirius. But she had also always been especially nice to him.

It was like there were two Bellas. The friendly and funny one that had shown him cool spells she had learned at Hogwarts back before he had started, and the cold and cruel one that had bullied Sirius ever since he had been sorted into Gryffindor.

But even the second Bella had never used the Cruciatus Curse. Until now.

Regulus opened his mouth to shout, to tell her to stop, to help his brother, but only air and silence came out. He tried to run towards where Sirius lay and Bella stood over him, but his legs would not move.

Regulus was not the only one motionless. The other students as well as their professor were also unmoving, just watching in shock and disbelief as the red light blasted Sirius again and again.

The Dark Lord was unmoving and watching, too, but not in shock or disbelief. No. He was smiling, only just barely, but definitely smiling. Why?

And Sirius just kept crying out in pain. His hand was desperately patting the grass around his fingers in search of his wand, but it was far out of reach.

It was Rodolphus Lestrange who stepped forward, caution yet determination in his green eyes.

"Bella." He said, "Bellatrix, he's your cousin. You have to stop."

Regulus was relieved that someone had spoken up, but resented that it was Rodolphus.

"He needs to be punished." Bella dismissed, her wand still blasting the red light down at Sirius.

She did not even glance at her husband as she scoffed. She continued to stare down at the expression of agony on Sirius wide-eyed, wide-mouthed face, as Sirius continued to scream.

"Yes he does, but leave it to the professor and his parents." Rodolphus reasoned.

"I'm his older cousin." Bella replied, "It's my job to keep him in line."

Rodolphus sighed, realizing he would not be able to convince his wife to stop. And so, he looked over at the Dark Lord.

"The Pureblood community won't appreciate hearing that their children are being punished with the Cruciatus Curse at _your_ training camp." He stated, "They may hold you responsible, 'my lord'."

The Dark Lord nodded at Rodolphus, a hint of annoyance in his red eyes, then turned to Bella. "Bella, that's enough."

The red light struck Sirius for one more moment until Bella finally lifted her wand and it subsided.

Sirius stopped yelling but remained on ground, not even trying to move. He looked like just another one of the fallen inferi sprawled on the grass.

Now Regulus was able to shout, able to move. "Sirius!" he cried as he rushed towards his older brother. Regulus knelt beside Sirius who glared up at him with fire in his gray eyes, despite the residual pain he must have been in.

"Do you finally see the kind of monster our 'dear cousin' truly is, Reg?" Sirius managed to whisper before he passed out from the pain.

And, for a moment, Regulus agreed. For a moment Regulus hated Bellatrix for using crucio on his older brother.

…but then, Bella's sweet voice was calling to him.

"Reggie," she said "Just leave him there, Reggie. You know he deserved it. He insulted all of us here and disrespected the Dark Lord. He's an embarrassment to our family. You know that right? I know you do, Reggie."

Bella did have a point. Sirius did say that everyone there had their heads up their rear ends and he did call the Dark Lord 'sick'.

If Regulus seemed to be sympathizing with Sirius now then everyone would think he agreed with Sirius, think that he cared more about dead muggles than Pureblood Supremacy. The Dark Lord would not trust him, his friends would turn on him, and Bella would treat him like she treated Sirius.

No. Regulus would not let that happen. He rose from his fallen brother's side and turned away from him, towards Bella.

"…you're right, Bella." Regulus nodded, solemnly.

Bella smiled. Smiled at him. A smile like that and Regulus knew that Bella had only used the Cruciatus Curse because the Dark Lord was watching, only used it as a last resort to protect her family's reputation, only used it because she—like Regulus—did not want to seem as if she agreed with what Sirius had said.

Regulus wanted to hug his older cousin, but his friends were watching so he did not.

The Dark Lord, who had said very little during this situation, turned to Professor Karkaroff again. "Ingvar, you need to keep better control of your students. You never had a discipline problem at Durmstrang."

"Hogwarts students are not like Durmstrang students." Professor Karkaroff attempted, "It is easier to train dogs when they are pups instead of when they are almost fully grown."

"No excuses." The Dark Lord dismissed.

Professor Karkaroff nodded at him, then turned to the patch of grass on the Black Manor back lawn where most of the uniformed students stood next to the pile of burned inferi—except for Regulus, Sirius, and Rodolphus, who were closer to Bella and the Dark Lord.

"Line up!" Professor Karkaroff ordered.

Immediately, the gray-uniformed students formed a shoulder-to-shoulder line. Regulus and Rodolphus, black-uniformed, hurried to stand at the two ends of the line, beside their respective teams.

Sirius remained outstretched on the ground.

The nine students stood at attention, awaiting further orders from their professor who stood directly in front of them.

From his place at the end of the line, next to Alvin Avery, Regulus glanced away from the Professor Karkaroff. First, he looked down at where his older brother lay on the ground, then up at where his older cousin stood over Sirius, and finally over at the Dark Lord standing a few feet behind her.

The Dark Lord was examining the line of students. Bella prodded Sirius with the toe of her boot a couple times before trotting over to the Dark Lord's side.

She looked over at the students, then up at the Dark Lord. "Shouldn't they bow to you, my lord? You are the Dark Lord, after all. They should bow."

The Dark Lord's brow furrowed in consideration.

Professor Karkaroff turned towards the Dark Lord, rolling his eyes. "You should not listen to a woman's suggestions—"

"No, Bellatrix is right." The Dark Lord decided, "They should bow to me."

Karkaroff grimaced. But then he quickly turned back towards the line of students, opening his mouth to give the order.

Before he could, Regulus had already dropped to his knees to bow. He had to be the first one to do it, he had to show the Dark Lord that he was nothing like his older brother Sirius.

Bella admired the Dark Lord so much, and that was why Regulus was sure he should admire the Dark Lord, too. Bella had never admired anyone before and therefore anyone she deemed worth bowing too was worth bowing to.

The other boys on Regulus' team—except Sirius, of course—followed Regulus' example. Evan Rosier, Mordred Mulciber, and Alvin Avery dropped to their knees in a bow.

Rodolphus Lestrange and his teammates soon did the same. But probably only because they did not want to be punished and seem less respectful than the other group, Regulus thought. The expression on Lucius Malfoy's face was one of indignation and affront.

Professor Karkaroff gestured towards the line of bowing students.

"And what about you?" The Dark Lord inquired.

Professor Karkaroff tensed in surprise. Then, he lowered himself down to the grass in a bow, as well.

From their bows on the ground, higher only than the inferi and Sirius sprawled on the lawn, the students and their teacher looked up at the Dark Lord who seemed even taller now.

Bella was still standing beside him. It was as if they were bowing to her too…but then, without even being told to, she bowed as well, right at the feet of the Dark Lord.

Regulus's dark eyes glanced over at Sirius again. He was glad his brother was unconscious and so could not see this.

Finally, after a few moments, the Dark Lord spoke.

"Rise." He said.

And so, the students, their professor, and Bella rose from the ground. As they did, they noticed the burned inferi rising from the ground at the same time.

The Dark Lord was holding up his wand, directing the inferi, though it looked like his wand was directing the humans, as well, and both the humans and the inferi were his puppets.

The Dark Lord examined the gray bodies of the inferi, charred black and red with burns. The undead muggles struggled to stand on their weakened legs.

"The inferi are too damaged." The Dark Lord decided.

He flicked his wand. The ten inferi disintegrated to ash that landed on the burned grass.

The students gasped.

The Dark Lord turned to Bella and said, "We'll have to go gather more muggles to replace these before we can continue your lesson."

"Yes, my lord." Bella nodded. For some reason she looked extremely relieved.

The skirt of her black dress—longer than usual, Regulus noticed—was had some stray blades of grass and some dirt on it, which she brushed off with both hands. The other students and Professor Karkaroff were also wiping off their uniforms after kneeling on the ground to bow.

Regulus glanced over at Sirius, still laying on the ground. His older brother was still motionless, though Regulus did watch his chest for a few moments to make sure he was still breathing.

Then Regulus looked at Bella again, and of course, at the Dark Lord they had just bowed to. The two were already walking up the cobblestone path back towards the manor, the shorter Bella hurrying to follow the taller Dark Lord's longer strides.

Regulus wondered where they were going to get more muggles to create inferi. Were they really going to kill people like Sirius suspected? Probably not. Taking bodies from a graveyard would be easier, right? Sirius was just being paranoid and had overreacted.

Once the Dark Lord and Bella had gone, Professor Karkaroff turned to Regulus and the gray-uniformed members of his team.

"Pick him up and take him inside." Karkaroff ordered, pointing at Sirius unconscious on the grass.

"Yes, sir." Regulus nodded.

He, Evan, Alvin and Mordred jogged over to where Sirius lay. Regulus and Evan grabbed Sirius' arms while Alvin and Mordred grabbed Sirius' legs.

The four carried the unconscious teenager up the hill towards the Black Manor. Their footsteps on the grass disturbed the ash that had once been inferi and before that alive.

* * *

The abandoned house was unlit, just as it had been the day before when Bella and Lord Voldemort had visited. But unlike yesterday, today it was empty.

"Where are all the muggles?" Bella wondered aloud. Her dark eyes squinted as they scanned the dark room, used needles and overturned furniture on its floor.

"We took all the ones from this room yesterday," Voldemort recalled, "but places like these restock themselves."

"Should we check the next room, my lord?" Bella suggested. She stepped forward and felt something crunch under her boot.

A crumpled piece of paper.

Bella bent down to pick it up. Once she had, she rose and unrumpled it, finding it to be a flyer for a muggle event. Although the messy room was dark, she managed to read the largest letters on the page.

_STONEHENGE FREE FESTIVAL_

Bella raised a thin eyebrow in confusion and then furrowed her brow in offense.

In addition to the capital letter title, there was an image of the large rocks that comprised Stonehenge as well as a list of very odd names that must have been the names of muggle bands.

 _The muggles were having a music festival at Stonehenge?!_ That was like muggle Satanists holding a ritual in a muggle Christian church. Inappropriate and disrespectful.

It only solidified Bella's belief that muggles had to be put in their place as well as mudbloods. They had been allowed too much leeway for too long, their ignorance of the Wizarding World used as an excuse by the muggle-lovers to let them go unpunished.

Bella gripped the paper flyer tightly in anger, shaking her head and her long black hair.

"What is that?" Voldemort questioned.

Bella handed him the flyer and watched his red eyes narrow as he read it. Once he had, he crumpled it and threw it down to the already trash-covered floor.

"How dare they defile a sacred wizarding historical site?!" He growled in shock and fury.

"We have to go remove them, my lord." Bella agreed. Because it was the necessary and right thing to do to protect the sacred monument. Because it would be fun, as always, to attack muggles.

…and also because it did not involve fleeing wandless from inferi in the cornfield.

"Yes, we must…but not you, Bella." Lord Voldemort decided.

Bella blinked. "What? Why?"

"You're still learning the value of deprivation." Voldemort explained, "Your assault on your cousin today, while warranted, demonstrated a lack of self-control. If you're going to be my soldier, you need to attack only when I give the order. Until then, I expect you to control yourself and not to use your magic to harm anyone, unless I tell you to."

Bella grimaced, folding her arms into a pout. The Dark Lord Voldemort was really asking too much of her now.

Sleeping in the uncomfortable cellar with the inferi standing over her was one thing, but not hurt anyone unless he told her to? She could skip meals, she could even go without sex for a while…but hurting others was her most basic need, and had been for as long as she could remember.

"If not me, then who will you bring with you?" Bella asked, "Or will you go alone?"

"I'll take the students with me." Voldemort said, "The best way to learn is through experience."

Bella nodded.

She had never liked how in Hogwarts students were made to read about spells as much as practice them. Still, she was annoyed that she would not be allowed to participate this time—especially since the other students were going to.

"Unless you're me." Bella grumbled under her breath, arms still crossed in the dim messy room of the abandoned muggle house.

"Part of self-control is keeping sarcastic comments to yourself." Voldemort scolded. "And you _are_ learning through experience; the experience of deprivation."

Bella sighed. "Yes, my lord, you're right."

She would have to do this. She would have to demonstrate self-control. If she did it well enough, for long enough, she might be able to gain the Dark Lord's approval _without_ having to create inferi.

She had already gotten the students to bow to him. She knew how much he liked being respected. He had seemed to appreciate that.

So, it should only take just a little more to earn his approval.

Probably.

* * *

After lunch, the uniformed students returned to the back lawn. They lined up in front of Professor Karkaroff, the looming presence of the Black Manor behind him.

Missing from the line was Sirius. He was still unconscious inside the house where he had been placed on the bottom bunk of his bed.

It was just after midday. The gray clouds above parted to reveal the sun directly above them in the center of the sky.

On the ground, the grass was still burned and the ashes of the inferi still remained. The students stood atop it in the formation they had learned, but not yet perfected.

"Tonight, you boys will have the chance to put into practice everything you have learned so far." Professor Karkaroff began, "Tonight you boys will have the chance to become men."

The students furrowed their foreheads in confusion, glancing at each other before facing their professor again, hoping he would explain what he meant.

Regulus raised his hand. "'Become men', sir? Does that mean we'll have to kill someone tonight?"

He could already feel his raised hand getting sweaty as his heart pounded with nervousness. He wanted to fight for Pureblood Supremacy but he knew for sure that he would be unable to kill another living person—even a muggle.

"Yes." Professor Karkaroff affirmed, "The Dark Lord recently discovered that muggles are having some sort of gathering at a monument sacred to the British Wizarding Community, I believe it is called Stonehenge.

Regulus blinked in surprise as he lowered his hand. A few of the students in line gasped.

 _Stonehenge?_ The great wizard Merlin himself had constructed Stonehenge. Most British wizards and witches were not religious, but the few that were still worshipped there.

Muggles certainly should not have been congregating there—but that did not mean that those that did deserved to be _killed_ for it. Or did they? Wizards did not go into muggle places of worship, after all…

"As I am not from this country, I do not know its significance of the place," Karkaroff continued, "but the Dark Lord is very offended at what the muggles are doing there. He knows that your British Ministry of Magic will do nothing to stop and so we must take matters into our own hands—"

Regulus raised his sweating hand again. "But we're not ready, sir. We've only been training for four days!"

"I expressed that sentiment to the Dark Lord myself." Professor Karkaroff recounted, tone of voice annoyed, "But he insisted that the muggles must be brought to justice immediately. And so, I have until sundown to prepare you all for the attack."

Regulus gulped as he lowered his hand again.

 _An attack?_ Attacking muggles was against the law. What if the Ministry of Magic found out? They would all be sent to Azkaban!

Sirius was right. The Dark Lord was going too far. Regulus had to find a way to get out of this…

He raised his hand a third time. "Excuse me, sir. I have to use the toilet."

Professor Karkaroff scowled. "Make it quick. We have limited time."

Regulus nodded. He lowered his hand and stepped out of line, then jogging up the cobblestone path towards the Black Manor.

* * *

Because nobody could apparate into the Black Manor, Bella and Lord Voldemort had to walk back to the property from the nearby road. After they had, he had gone to speak with the Durmstrang professor in private while the students ate lunch.

Instead of being able to eat as well, Bella had been ambushed in the sittingroom by her mother and younger sister, who had cooked for the students. They had wanted to know where Bella had been the night before and did not believe her when she told them that she had slept in the cellar.

Bella really did not care what they thought so she did not bother trying to convince them. She escaped the sittingroom a little after she heard the students leaving the diningroom down the hallway to resume their training outside.

She was on her way up the spiraling stairs in the foyer, hoping to find the Dark Lord on the second floor, when she heard footsteps from the hall. Familiar footsteps. It sounded like Regulus running…

Bella turned, creeping down the stairs and across the hardwood floor of the dimly-lit foyer. She waited until the footsteps were right there and then jumped through the doorway into the unlit hallway.

Regulus' uniform shoes screeched to a stop as he almost smacked into his older cousin, Bella.

Bella grinned. "Hey, Reggie."

Regulus flailed his arms to regain his balanced, then sputtered "Hi, Bella."

"Aren't you excited?" Bella asked him, "You and the other boys get to raid a muggle festival. You're so lucky…" She did not bother to mask the jealously in her tone and facial expression.

Still, she was happy for Regulus. She had always wanted him to be more like her, to enjoy hurting lessers. He would get his first taste of it tonight and after he became addicted, Bella would be able to show him everything he had been missing without worrying about him no longer looking up to her.

Regulus did not look excited. His dark eyes were wide with nervousness and his normally pale face was pink and sweating.

"Yeah, yeah, I am excited." Regulus said, unconvincingly.

Bella narrowed her eyes, looking into Regulus' so that she could use Legilimency.

_I can't do this. I can't kill muggles, I can't hurt them. I don't want to let my family down, I don't want to let Bella down but I don't want to get in trouble with the Ministry, either. I have to get out of here!_

Oh. Bella realized. So it was fear. Regulus was scared. Scared of getting in trouble. Scared of causing pain. Scared of killing.

Why did he have to be such a coward? Why did he have to be so weak? He was her cousin, for Merlin's sake, a son of the Black Family! He had to be strong and ruthless.

His muggle-loving, bloodtraitor brother had more bravery than him! (Of course, Gryffindor bravery was just a polite phrasing of stupidity.)

Bella forced a smile before her face contorted with disgust.

"You're nervous, aren't you, Reggie?" She pretended to guess.

Regulus blinked. "How—how did you know?"

"I'm your big cousin, I can tell." Bella replied, "It's okay that you're nervous. Everyone's nervous their first time before a fight. Even I was. All you have to do is remember that you're a Black. You won't get in trouble and you won't lose."

Regulus narrowed his dark eyes. "How can you know that for sure?"

"Because you're a Black." Bella repeated, "We're pureblooded, rich, and powerful. We can do whatever we want because our blood is strong and so our magic strong, and we can get away with whatever we do because we have money and influence."

Regulus' brow furrowed in consideration. Bella looked into his eyes again.

_Bella's right. I'll never get in trouble. No member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight has gone to prison for centuries, right? So what am I afraid of? …oh, right. Killing. I could never bring myself to kill someone, not even if they deserved it._

"Remember the first time you rode a broomstick?" Bella reminded Regulus. "Before you went to Hogwarts. The Gryffindor brought it home from school during Christmas Break to show it off at the Malfoy Christmas party. We took it because he wouldn't let you try it out and went up to the roof. I showed you how to ride the broom, but you were scared. Do you remember that, Reggie?"

"Yes, I do." Regulus confirmed, "I was afraid of heights so you pushed me off the roof with the broomstick. I had to ride it so I wouldn't die."

"Yes I did." Bella smirked, "And you were pissed at me, at the time. But now you're not afraid of heights anymore, are you? Now you're on the Slytherin Quidditch team."

"I faced my fear and I got over it." Regulus recognized the moral of Bella's story. But then added, "But hurting people isn't like flying a broomstick, Bella, even if I'm not scared before I'll still feel bad afterwards."

"You'll get over that, too." Bella assured. Though, truthfully, she did not know if that was true or not because she had never once felt bad about hurting someone.

"I don't know if I want to." Regulus replied, "I don't want to be a bad person."

Bella's dark eyes widened in feigned offense, "Do you think _I'm_ bad person?"

"No, no I don't, I don't!" Regulus denied quickly.

"Then you won't be, either." Bella reasoned, "It's not 'bad' to take back what rightfully belongs to the wizards and punish the muggles for stealing it. It's the _right_ thing to do. And you're getting the honor of being one of the people to do it. One of the people to stand up and act while the Ministry does nothing to stop the encroachment onto our sacred sites. You won't be a bad person for doing that, you'll be a hero, Reggie."

Regulus nodded. "You're right."

One final time Bella looked into his eyes.

_The muggles deserve to be punished. They do. And I have to be the one to punish them. If I do, I'll be a hero. Bella will see me as a hero._

Bella smiled and it was not forced this time. Regulus still admired her like he always had.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready with the others outside?" Bella asked him.

"Oh." Regulus remembered, with a blink and a nod, "Yeah, I'd better get back out there. See you later, Bella."

Bella watched as Regulus turned and rushed back down the down the dim hallway he had come from. Once he was gone, Bella left the hallway, returning to the foyer and the spiraling stairs.

On the second floor, she found that the guestroom usually occupied by the Dark Lord Voldemort was empty. _Where was he?_

Bella could search the Black Manor for him…or she could go up to the third floor where Sirius probably was.

Maybe Sirius had woken up after passing out from the Cruciatus Curse she had hit him with. Maybe she could crucio him again. The Dark Lord had told her not to use her magic to harm anyone without being told to, but he did not seem to be around and so he would never know…

Bella climbed the steps to the third floor and entered the room that had once belonged to her bloodtraitor middle sister.

The room was unlit, but some afternoon light pushed in past the shut curtains. The rows of bunkbeds were visible as figures in the dark. All were empty.

Except for one.

Bella could see the silhouette of person lying on the bottom bunk of one of the five bunkbeds. Sirius. She did not need to see his face in order to recognize the cousin she had always despised.

When he was born, her own parents as well as her aunt and uncle lauded him as the heir of the next generation of the Black Family. An as the oldest son, Sirius was the sole heir. In addition to his pure blood, he got to inherit all the money and all the property, and he got to keep the Black name instead of being married off and losing it.

Bella had already envied and disliked him for just that, but then Sirius had to choose Gryffindor, mudbloods and muggles, which strengthened Bella's envy and dislike into hatred.

…Sirius Black…

He did not even deserve that name. Bella should have been Sirius Black. She would have been the perfect Black Family son.

Sirius' chest rose and fell slowly under his gray uniform. Was he sleeping? Or was he just pretending to sleep to avoid participating in the Dark Arts training?

"Wake up, Gryffindor." Bella barked.

Sirius did not stir.

"Blood traitor!" Bella tried again, even louder.

Again, Sirius did not move.

Bella stepped closer to the bottom bunk until she was standing over the sprawled Sirius just like she had a few hours earlier on the back lawn. She drew her wand, aiming it at him.

"Last chance." She warned, "Get up now, or I'll crucio you again."

Sirius remained motionless. His chest rose and fell, rose and fell. He was truly still unconscious.

Bella frowned. But then, she smiled.

"We're going to attack some of your beloved muggles tonight, Gryffindor." Bella sang, "We're going to hurt them, we're going to kill them, and there's nothing you can do about." She cackled.

Creak.

Instantly, Bella whirled around, pointing her wand at whoever had snuck up behind her.

A short and chubby girl stood in the doorway wearing a gray uniform that looked far too clean to have seen any training. She scratched her short red hair with her free hand in confusion.

"Who are you?" Bella demanded. The scruffy girl looked familiar, maybe, but Bella could not remember her name.

"Alecto Carrow." The girl reminded, "We've met several times. I arrived four days ago with my brother to participate in the Dark Arts training but that professor with the weird accent and the even weirder beard wouldn't let me cause I'm a girl. He wouldn't let you, either. Remember?"

"Oh…right…" Bella recalled, lowering her wand, "What do you want?"

"You were just talking about attacking muggles, right?" Alecto said.

"So?" Bella shrugged.

Alecto smirked. "So I want in."

Bella smirked back. Maybe she liked this tomboyish girl after all.

* * *

The sun was starting to set in the gray sky above the Black Manor and the nine students training on its burned back lawn were exhausted. How were they going conduct a successful attack tonight after practicing for it all afternoon?

Still, they lined up in front of their professor, shoulder-to-shoulder, as they had been trained.

Regulus felt his chest heave painfully. He could hear Mordred complaining to Alvin on the other side of Evan. He glanced further down the line. Igor Karkaroff was the only one who did not look tired. Regulus was not surprised since Igor was the professor's son and a Durmstrang student.

Professor Karkaroff opened his mouth to speak, but before he could the back door to the manor opened and out strode the Dark Lord. Karkaroff closed his mouth and like his students, waited silently until the Dark Lord had finished walking down the cobblestone path towards them.

The Dark Lord halted when he reached the group, but said nothing.

 _Why was he saying nothing? What was he waiting for?_ Regulus quickly figured it out. _Bow!_ They were supposed to bow.

Regulus was the first to do it, kneeling slowly and also turning his head to see if the other uniformed students in line would do the same. They did. And so did Professor Karkaroff.

The Dark Lord smiled.

And that was all he did for a short while. Finally, he spoke.

"Stand." He commanded, "And those who are under the age of seventeen, step forward."

The line of uniformed students rose in unison as ordered to.

Then, tentatively, Regulus, Evan, Alvin, Mordred, and Amycus each took one step forward, holding out their wands in front of them—though not in a pointing gesture as that would be aggressive and disrespectful towards their leader.

Regulus wondered why they had to hold out their wands. His dark eyes glanced down at his, held loosely in his hand, like an extra but essential finger.

"Do you all know how the Trace on underage wizards works?" The Dark Lord asked.

Regulus and the other younger students shook their heads. They did not know and why would they? If underage wizards and witches knew how it worked, then they might be able to circumvent it. No, all they knew is that it alerted authorities if they used magic outside of Hogwarts.

"The Ministry puts the traces on wands before they're purchased." The Dark Lord explained, "They automatically expire after six years but I will remove them from your wands now."

He waved his own wand towards the extended wands to the students.

Regulus felt his wand rustle in his hand. The wood of his wand changed—but only barely—as if it had aged just a few years.

Oh, so the Dark Lord was fooling the Traces on the wands into believing that more time had passed than the amount that actually had. Brilliant.

The Dark Lord must have been really smart to figure it out how the Trace worked and really powerful to be able to disable it, Regulus thought, no wonder Bella respected him.

Regulus gripped his wand tightly. He could not yet test if the Trace was actually gone—the adults had put some kind of charm on the Black Estate so that the underage students' wands could not send a signal to the Ministry of Magic about their underage magic use—but he was sure it was. The wand just felt different in his hand.

The Dark Lord turned to Professor Karkaroff.

"It's almost dark." He noted, red eyes glancing up at the violet sky behind the gray clouds, "It's time to go."

"Yes." Karkaroff nodded at the Dark Lord, though his accented voice sounded bitter. He then turned towards the uniformed students, "All of you join hands so we can apparate to the location."

The students tensed. They were teenage boys and young men in their early twenties. They were not about to hold hands like school children.

"How romantic." Mordred snorted.

He, Alvin and Evan all snickered.

Regulus turned to glare at the three of them, "Just do it."

The fellow teenagers groaned but joined hands as they had been ordered to. So did Rodolphus and his group, who looked equally unthrilled about it. Finally, Professor Karkaroff took the hand of his son and all ten immediately felt the uncomfortable tug of apparating.

The last thing Regulus saw of the backyard was the Dark Lord watching them disappear.


	15. Stonehenge

A semicircle of tall slabs of stone. Some of them fallen, some of them upright and alone, some of them in pairs with a third atop them forming archways between the inside of the circle and the grassy field that stretched for miles around them.

Stonehenge.

It was almost impossible to see it in the darkness. There were stars and a crescent moon in the sky above, mirroring the ancient monument.

Regulus squinted in confusion, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Stonehenge was empty. Regulus, the other students, and their professors were the only ones there.

They had appeared on the field by the tall slabs of stone via apparition. The teenage boys and young men immediately released each other's hands.

Regulus turned to Evan, Alvin and Mordred beside him. They were scanning the field in similar confusion.

"Where're all the muggles?" Mordred wondered aloud.

Alvin shrugged. Evan flipped in golden hair out of his face.

Regulus sighed in relief. He would not have to attack any muggles after all. _Thank Merlin!_

"Over there!"

Regulus, Evan, Alvin, and Mordred whipped their heads towards the source of the shout.

Amycus Carrow was pointing at a glowing light.

If it had been higher up, the light would have looked like a faraway star, but it was close enough that the students could tell it was a bonfire. And it was not the only one. Several lights glowed in the distance, about a half a mile away.

Regulus heard Alvin and Mordred chuckling. He just groaned. He would have to participate in an attack, after all…

"Assume formation!" Professor Karkaroff ordered.

But most of the students were already sprinting across the grass towards the bonfires, their wands drawn, ignoring his words.

Only Regulus, the disgruntled professor, his son, and Lucius Malfoy (who stood with his arms folded and his feet planted like he had no intention of participating) remained behind.

"Come back here!" Professor Karkaroff called in fruitless frustration, "Get into formation!"

Again, he was ignored. A few of the disobeying students shot spells into the air and shouted, announcing their presence to the muggles ahead instead of sneaking up on them as planned.

Lucius Malfoy turned to Professor Karkaroff, shaking his blond-haired head, disgust in his silver eyes.

"This is madness and I refuse to be a part of it." Lucius declared, "My father will hear about this."

And with that, he apparated away.

Professor Karkaroff just stared at where he had stood, confusion on his goateed face. Karkaroff probably had no idea who Lucius Malfoy's father was, Regulus reasoned, since he was not from England.

Regulus watched his teammates disappearing towards the bonfire light. Then the figure of Evan stopped and turned around.

"Come on, Regulus!" Evan called, waving an arm, "Let's go!"

Mordred and Alvin then stopped, too.

"Yeah come on!"

"What're you waiting for?!"

And so Regulus rushed to catch up with them, drawing his wand. He could not disappoint his friends.

* * *

Bella and Alecto both screamed as they fell forward, toppling face-first into the grass. Bella knew how to apparate but she did not have much experience bringing someone with her.

Bella groaned as she used both her palms to push herself off of the ground. Eyes adjusting to the dark night, she looked down at Alecto, still face down.

"…you alright?" Bella asked, thin eyebrow raised. There was no concern in her voice, just annoyance.

If Alecto was hurt, it would slow Bella down. It was _already_ slowing Bella down. She wanted to be attacking muggles right now!

"You splinched me!" Alecto grumbled, slowly rising from the grassy ground and turning her red-haired head to glare at Bella.

Bella shrugged, "Do a healing spell."

"I'm crap at healing spells." Alecto grimaced as she turned to face Bella, clutching her injured arm with her wand hand.

"So am I." Bella replied, "You'll be fine. It's not your wand arm, anyway. Let's go."

"Go where?" Alecto asked, "I don't see any muggles!"

Bella's dark eyes blinked in surprise. She scanned the field…Alecto was right. No muggles. The field was empty.

Alecto furrowed her forehead, "Did you even apparate us to the right place?"

"Well, I've never been here before but I've seen pictures and had a general idea of where it was…" Bella said as she continued to glance around the darkness with half adjusted eyes.

_There._

There was the monument. She could see its stone pillars—just barely—in the darkness. They formed a semicircle that was unmistakably Stonehenge.

And then, beyond it, fire. Some kind of faint flame a mile or more away.

"I see it." Bella said, pointing with her drawn wand at the light in the distance. She reached her other hand towards the injured Alecto, "I'll apparate us there—"

"No thanks." Alecto refused quickly, "I'll walk."

Bella rolled her dark eyes. "Suit yourself."

She concentrated on the light in the distance and apparated away.

* * *

Most of the tents, some of them made to look like Native American teepees, were unoccupied as the muggles were gathered around the bonfires, singing whatever ridiculous muggle folk song or modern music unrecognizable to any wizard or witch unfortunate enough to hear.

In this case, it was Lord Voldemort.

His red eyes looked ahead at the muggles circled around the bonfire, to preoccupied with the small burning object they were passing around and smoking, to notice that a strange figure had just appeared out of nowhere in their campsite.

Then, he glanced behind him, to make sure that the others had successfully apparated with him. They had.

Appearing with a pop into the dark space between the tents and teepees were several figures. Three held wands, and the other two that did not clung on to two of the wand holders.

Only one stood alone. He was as hairy as he was muscular, and hid neither trait as he was shirtless.

Fenrir Greyback. A werewolf.

He nodded at Voldemort, then looked back at the four other werewolves. Three males and one female.

"Lycaon will be angry when he finds out we were here." The female warned, stepping forward, "He doesn't like us doing these attacks on behalf someone who isn't our kind, even if he is a 'Dark Lord'."

Greyback snorted. "That old man is weak. I'm in charge now."

"No, Fenrir, I believe _I'm_ in charge now." Voldemort corrected.

"Oh, yes, of course." Greyback accepted—though somewhat sarcastically. "My mistake."

Voldemort ignored the sarcasm. For now.

"Go enjoy the liberties old Lycaon will never let you have." He invited, gesturing at the singing muggles around the bonfire, "Remind yourself why you're following me now."

Greyback smiled. So did the other werewolves, even the female.

They raced past the wizard, past the other tents, towards the crowd of muggles. The three with wands raised them. The two without raised their human hands as if they were paws, instead.

Tonight was not a full moon. They did not transform. Yet still they howled.

Voldemort watched them go.

It would be interesting to see what they would do while in human form, but that was not the reason he had brought them here. No, the reason the werewolves were here is because tomorrow someone had to take the blame for the night's attack and it would _not_ be pureblood wizards.

This attack was unplanned. It was only occurring because the muggles needed to be punished for their appropriation of Stonehenge. The practice that the young wizards learning the Dark Arts would receive from carrying it out was only secondary.

It was too soon for the Ministry of Magic to know that there was another Pureblood Supremacy group active in England. And so, as far as the Ministry would know, the assault on Stonehenge was just another random attack by bloodthirsty werewolves.

Soon the singing of the muggles turned to screaming. There was laughter and howls from the werewolves.

 _Where were the students?_ Voldemort wondered.

Teenage voices were shouting out spells. Some tents caught fire. There they were.

More muggle screaming. Flashing lights of different colors—though not enough green for Voldemort's liking. More laughter. More howling.

It was chaos that Voldemort's red eyes watched. The campsite was on fire. Muggles fled in all directions, tripping and bumping into each other as they screeched in terror.

An amusing and satisfying sight.

…but not as satisfying as seeing muggles enslaved, Voldemort reminded himself. Not as satisfying as a restructured society with him as its ruler.

Chaos was only a means to an end, that end being _order._ Order was satisfying. Chaos in of itself was not something to be appreciated or sought. No. Doing that would be a waste of time and energy.

And so Voldemort would not just stand there watching the flashes of colored light and growing fire, listening to the fearful screams and the cruel laughter, no matter how temporarily satisfying it was.

He was just about to disapparate when a single voice among all the other shouts and cackles caught his attention.

"Crucio!"

Somewhere, in the midst of the melee, Bellatrix Lestrange was shrieking.

* * *

_Oh, those scared little boys…_

They were setting tents on fire instead of muggles. Blasting curses without even trying to aim at the muggles and missing most of the time. Chasing muggles without the intention of catching them or any idea of what they would do if they did.

Bella smirked at the scene.

An enthralling sight. Spells exploded liked colorful fireworks. Chaos was a song. Screams were the melody, laughter the lyrics, and fleeing footsteps the drum beat.

Still, Bella knew she could do so much better than this.

Her cousin, Evan Rosier, had dropped his wand. He was kneeling on the trampled grass, hands searching for it, when Amycus Carrow and the long-haired muggle teenager he was chasing tripped over him. The three shouted in alarm as they rolled dangerously close to a bonfire.

The bonfire was spilling out of the confines of its circle, its flames burned across the grass, connecting with the flames on a tent on fire. Inside the tent, unable or too afraid to escape, was a cowering muggle woman, the crown of flowers in her hair singed.

There was another muggle woman. Alvin Avery and Mordred Mulciber had cornered her against the burning tent. But instead of using their magic to torture her, they simple used it to make her paisley dress disappear so they could stare at her in her underwear and kneesocks. She screamed as she tried to cover herself.

Where was Regulus? He should have been at least making some attempt to participate.

Oh. He was over there. Regulus was running after a young muggle man wearing bellbottom pants. Regulus was waving his wand wildly but not casting any spells.

"Get him, Reggie!" Bella called, but her voice was muffled by the continuing shouts.

Regulus was unable to hear her. He did not even glance at the sound of her voice as he continued to chase the muggle further and further away from where Bella stood.

Bella started to jog after them. She ran past burning tent and jumped over a muggle slumped on the grass.

Suddenly someone slammed into her, knocking her into a teepee that thankfully was not on fire and landing on top of her.

"Get off of me you filthy muggle!" Bella snapped.

"Muggle? Bella it's me!"

Bella recognized her husband Rodolphus' voice.

She had landed on the fabric of the teepee but something solid inside the structure was digging into her back. She grimaced in pain and attempted to push the taller and heavier man off of her.

Rod jumped up, turned and extended a hand down to help Bella up. She took it, allowing him to yank her upright, and then slapping him away as soon as he did.

"You pushed me." She accused.

"I _saved_ you." Rod corrected, "There was a spell coming right at you."

Bella's pale forehead furrowed. "Who cast it?" Her dark eyes scanned the flaming campsite for her possible attacker.

Rod shook his brown-haired head. "I don't know. But there are other wizards here, not just us. They might be mudbloods—"

"Mudbloods?!" Bella exclaimed, excitedly, "Where?!"

Why attack muggles if there were fresh mudbloods to torture?

She gazed past where Rod stood in front of her.

She could see Evan and Amycus kicking the muggle man that had tripped over the former (instead of using their magic, for some reason) as well as a muggle woman fleeing Mordred and Alvin in her underwear. But no mudblood…

"Duck!"

As soon as Bella recognized the voice of her brother-in-law, Rabastan, a spell whizzed over her head and she felt her husband Rod pushing her down into the fallen teepee again. They landed on the fabric and whatever glass object was underneath shattered this time, a piece poking Bella in the back.

"Sorry." Rod apologized, as he rolled off of her.

Bella sat up, reaching for her back with her free hand. She glared at Rod then looked up and ahead.

Bas was running towards them and away from someone. He darted past the fallen teepee and ducked behind a standing one. Chasing him was a tall and muscular shirtless man (though he was so hairy he almost looked like an animal) wand like a claw in his hand.

Bella leaped up, pointing her wand at the oncoming attacker.

He immediately stopped, eyes focusing on her wand. Once he saw the wand in her hand, he turned and ran off into the mess of spells and screams to pursue a target who did not have a wand.

Bella began to chase after him but Rod grabbed her arm, stopping her.

"Don't." He warned, "That wasn't a muggle."

"Who cares?" Bella dismissed, "It was probably a mudblood."

"He saw all of our faces." Rod reasoned, "The last thing we need to do is something he can report us to the aurors for."

"Then we should just kill him." Bella decided.

"There'll be an investigation if you kill a wizard." Rod replied. "And that won't put just you at risk of being arrested, it could get our whole group into trouble. The Dark Lord wouldn't like that, would he?"

"You're never any fun." Bella sighed, shaking off his grasp on her arm, though she knew her husband was correct.

Rod rolled his green eyes. "Oh, go torture a muggle."

And so, Bella scanned her surroundings once again. Fire now illuminated the field as it consumed the campsite, but its orange light was being choked by smoke.

Through that smoke, several yards away, ran a muggle. The same muggle in bellbottoms Regulus had been chasing earlier…and was still chasing now, apparently.

Bella dashed to join the chase, leaving Rod and Bas behind beside the fallen teepee.

It was difficult to navigate the dancing flames and the running people, but Bella caught up to Regulus and the muggle at the outskirts of the campsite, miles of grassy field beyond.

The muggle attempted to run into the field but a curse struck him down. He fell forward, yelping as he hit the grass with a thud.

Regulus whirled around in surprise, "Bella?!"

Bella grinned. "Caught him for you."

"Uh…thanks." Regulus smiled nervously. He scratched his short dark hair.

"Now is the time to face your fear, Reggie." Bella stated, "Remember our conversation earlier? Punish the muggle."

Regulus gulped and nodded. He turned away from Bella to face the muggle that was now dragging himself across the grass by his arms, legs immobile. He pointed his wand…

"Dolento!" Regulus shouted.

The light that shot from his wand was yellow. It hit the muggle who yelped more in discomfort than pain and was not hindered as he continued to drag himself across from the grass, getting further and further away from where Bella and Regulus stood.

Bella groaned, "Not _that._ Use crucio! Use the Cruciatus Curse!"

Regulus tensed, outstretched arm trembling as he gripped his pointed wand. He hesitated before forcing out the incantation.

"C-crucio."

A weak voice and weak jet of red light. The muggle did not make a sound when it hit, continuing to escape.

"Reggie!" Bella snapped, "You can do better than that!"

"Crucio!" Regulus shouted, louder and more forcefully.

But the red blast of light from his was still weak and the muggle was still quiet, dragging his body away from his attackers.

"I can't do it." Regulus choked, dropping to his knees and hanging his head in shame.

Bella was disappointed but also disgusted. Why did her favorite cousin have to be the weak one?

"I'll show you how it's done." She declared, stepping forward, past the kneeling Regulus, towards the fleeing muggle. "Crucio."

Red light blasted from her wand and struck the muggle. The muggle screamed, no longer dragging himself away.

But Bella was not even trying, not yet.

"Crucio!"

The muggle screamed again. Louder. His body contorted in pain.

"Crucio!"

"Stop!" The muggle cried, "Please!"

Yes. That was what Bella was waiting for. Begging. She loved begging.

"Crucio!"

"Please, stop!" the muggle sobbed, voice hoarse from screaming and wavering from pain, "Why are you doing this?! I've done nothing—"

Bella cackled.

But she could do more. The muggle was still able to form coherent— but strained—sentences.

"Crucio!"

The muggle screamed again. He was not able to beg anymore.

"See, Reggie, this is how you—" Bella stopped when she glanced behind her.

Regulus was gone.

When he had run away, Bella did not know. She had been so consumed with torturing the muggle that she did not notice him leave.

Clenching her fist around her wand, Bella turned back towards the muggle, preparing to take out her annoyance at Regulus on the muggle. "Cru—"

"Just kill me…" the muggle choked, breathing heavily where he lay on the grass, "Don't…don't put me through that again. Please…"

Bella blinked in surprise. So he would rather die than experience the Cruciatus Curse again? So pain was worse than death?

_Maybe she could use that to stop being afraid of death…_

* * *

Bellatrix Lestrange was a beautiful sight. But Lord Voldemort was not moved by beauty.

Bellatrix Lestrange torturing a muggle and cackling at his pain was a beautiful sight. But Lord Voldemort was not moved by beauty.

The muggle writhing and screaming on the ground in pain was a beautiful sight. Lord Voldemort was not moved by beauty.

Still, he could not look away.

On the edge of the burning campsite, Voldemort watched as Bella's Cruciatus Curse struck the screaming muggle again and again.

He had seen her cousin Regulus Black run away, so afraid that he had not noticed the Dark Lord standing there. Coward. Voldemort did not understand why Regulus was Bella's favorite cousin.

Voldemort knew he should be angry, and he was. He had told Bella not to come here and she had ignored that order. But still, he could appreciate—for just a short while—the scene in front of him.

The red blast of light contrasting the otherwise dark night. One figure standing over the other on a flat empty field, contrasting the crowded chaos in the campsite behind. The competence and power of the woman's lone attack, contrasting the incompetence and weakness of the many students' attack on the many muggles.

Yes, violence for the sake of violence was pointless, torture for the sake of torture was point…but at least Bella did it well.

She was the only capable soldier at Stonehenge tonight, despite her disobedience. The uniformed students were not demonstrating the same level of magical ability or ability to carry out an attack without fear and hesitation.

That almost made up for the fact that she had disobeyed him. _Almost._

As much as a beautiful witch causing beautiful pain was a beautiful sight, Lord Voldemort had to put a stop to it.

He raised his wand and stepped forward towards where Bella stood over the screeching, begging muggle, unaware of his presence.

* * *

Regulus had fled as soon as he had seen the maniacal look on Bella's face as she crucioed the muggle. _Was she crazy?!_ Regulus had never seen anything more frightening in his life and he had never expected to see the most frightening thing in his life in the form of a look on Bella's face.

His favorite cousin. Sweet, beautiful Bella…Regulus could not believe it. This could _not_ be real. It was some sort of nightmare.

He ran past burning tents and screaming muggles in search of the other students. He did not see his friends, Alvin, Mordred and Evan anywhere.

Suddenly, Regulus felt a sharp grasp grab his arms, moving him so that he was face to face with wide and worried green eyes.

"Where's Bella?!" Rodolphus demanded, holding Regulus by both black-uniformed shoulders and shaking him.

All around them fire burned tents and teepees. Screams and cackles rang out through the smoky air. Muggles fled but there were no longer any students in gray uniforms chasing them.

…but there were scruffy, hairy people in torn clothing, biting at the muggles as if they were wild animals and howling to the crescent moon above.

"I don't know!" Regulus exclaimed, "Last I saw her she was crucioing a muggle and laughing about it! It was like she'd transformed into a totally different person—"

Rodolphus interrupted with a snort. "A 'different person'? You don't know your own cousin, kid."

Regulus shrugged Rodolphus' grasp off of him. "Maybe y _ou_ don't know your own wife!"

Regulus had felt the need to shout, felt the need to disagree. But at this point, he knew Rodolphus was right and that his favorite cousin Bella was not the kind but eccentric girl he had always thought she was. His shout, his disagreement was really out of frustration at that truth rather than at being told the truth by Rodolphus.

Rodolphus rolled his green eyes. "Just take me to her."

* * *

"Just kill me…" the muggle begged, "Don't…don't put me through that again. Please…"

Bella just sneered. "Why not?" She raised her wand again.

But before she could cast the spell, a green light whizzed past Bella, striking the muggle. Instantly he was dead.

Bella did not need to look behind her to know who had cast the Killing Curse.

"Bella." The voice of the Dark Lord spoke behind her—quiet, though somehow rising above all the noise from the ransacked campsite.

Bella tensed.

"Turn around and look at me." The voice continued.

Slowly, Bella turned around. The Dark Lord Voldemort stood before her. His face, almost as white as the crescent moon above, was expressionless save for anger in his red eyes.

Bella knew why he was angry. He had told her not to participate in this attack. She was supposed to be learning the 'value' of 'deprivation' (though whatever value it had was not near the value of torturing a muggle).

"My lord, let me explain," Bella attempted, "I was only trying to teach how to do a proper Cruciatus Curse and—"

"I specifically told you not to come here." Voldemort interrupted, "Just when I thought you were becoming an obedient student, a loyal soldier, I find that you only follow orders when they suit you."

"Well, you're orders weren't fair!" Bella exclaimed, "All the boys got to attack! Why did _I_ have to stay behind?! I can do a better job punishing these muggles and you know it. Any other order I would have followed. I gave you my wand and let the inferi chase me. I slept all night on the cellar floor with them. I did everything else you asked! It's just this…" she gestured at the dead muggle beside her, "I can't live without hurting others. I need to—"

"No you don't." Voldemort dismissed, "You have an addiction and a lack of self-control."

Bella shook her head, long dark hair shaking with it. "No, my lord, it's more than that. You have to understand. I feed off of their pain. I need it to survive. I know you of all people must understand that, considering the kind of magic you're capable of. I know you're the same as me."

A bold claim. But Bella was sure it was true. (That, or she just desperately wanted it to be.)

The Dark Lord scoffed. "If we were anything alike, you'd be able to refrain from torturing muggles when necessary. Instead, you're incapable of denying yourself what you want, even for a short period of time. Everything I do, I do for a reason, not just because I enjoy it."

"But you _do_ enjoy it." Bella insisted, "I've seen it before, at the party a week ago when you dueled three wizards at once. You weren't just fighting to prove your abilities, you were _enjoying_ it, feeding off of defeating your opponents and the crowd watching you win. _That's_ why you really are, my lord. _That's_ the man I want to follow."

"This isn't about what you want." Voldemort replied.

"What about what _you_ want, then, my lord?" Bella said, "I can tell you've been denying yourself what you want for too long because you're worried it might interfere with your long term goals. Even now, you're angry with me, I've disobeyed you, but you're not punishing me. You're the first person who's ever been able to tell me what to do. Why not take that a step further and punish me for disobeying? Use the Cruciatus Curse… or are you too afraid? Maybe I was wrong to follow you in the first place if you're too—"

Bella silenced when she saw the Dark Lord raising his wand, red eyes narrowing and teeth clenching in anger. _He was going to do it. He was really going to punish_ —the Dark Lord lowered his wand and his expression neutralized.

He shook his head, scoffing again, this time in disgust. "You _want_ me to punish you, Bellatrix, and enjoy it? You _want_ me to be the same as you? Well, I will not and I am not. I'm better and I have better things to do than cater to what you want. If you're looking for someone to make you feel less alone in how you take your pleasures, look elsewhere."

Bella blinked, mouth open in shock. She was sure she was right. She was sure they were alike. Why was he denying it?

Before Bella could respond, the Dark Lord had apparated away, leaving her alone in the dark with the dead muggle.

* * *

Regulus led Rodolphus through the flaming wreckage of what had earlier been the Stonehenge Free Festival. They found Bella on the outskirts of the burning campsite. She was just standing there, staring down at a dead muggle.

Rodolphus approached. Regulus remained behind, still too afraid from what he had seen earlier to get close to Bella.

"Bella." Rodolphus said, "We have to go. The muggle police are here and so are some cannibals."

Bella did not respond. Her back was to them and the campsite on fire.

"Bella." Rodolphus repeated, "Everyone else has already left. We did what we had to do. It's time to go."

Bella still did not respond and did not move.

Rodolphus sighed, shaking his head and rolling his green eyes. He yanked Regulus by the arm, pulling him forward so that they both rushed towards Bella. As soon as Rodolphus was able to grab Bella's arm, as well, the three disapparated away.


	16. The Cruciatus Curse

The next morning after the attack on the Stonehenge Free Festival, before dawn when the sky was still deep blue, figures approached the Black Manor in the dark. They crossed the grass of the front lawn rather than using the stone pathway leading up to the front door.

Leading them was Lord Voldemort.

He could see a silhouette in the third floor window above, watching him and the other figures approach. He knew it was Bellatrix. Maybe she had waited up for him all night or maybe she had just awoken. Either way, she would be outside soon trying to talk to him.

What would she say this time? Would she apologize? Or would she continue to insist that the two of them were alike and try to convince him to punish her?

It was just a game to Bellatrix, the novelty of being ordered around. And now she wanted the novelty of being punished for misbehavior.

Voldemort did not even have to use legilimency to see that was all this was to the young pureblood witch. If only Cygnus and Druella had raised their daughter correctly, then he would not have been dealing with this nonsense.

Behind Voldemort were the werewolves…and their muggle prisoners, ropes around their necks like leashes. A vengeful reversal of the natural man and dog dynamic.

These were the muggles that even the werewolves did not want to feast on or turn. They were sickly, Fenrir Greyback claimed he could smell it in their blood. Some kind of incurable disease. (Voldemort was not sure he believed that, though he would have if it had been a vampire to make the claim.)

Voldemort did not glance back to see the fearful expressions on the muggles' faces, though he could hear their whimpering as they were yanked along by the ropes held in the werewolves' hands. The werewolves were chuckling, clearly enjoying the muggles' fear.

Voldemort remembered when he used to terrorize other children at the orphanage and at Hogwarts for fun. He had stopped when he was old enough to realize that not only was the hobby not useful or productive in any way, it was also a risk to his reputation and future success.

"Where do you want to store the meat?" Greyback asked from behind Voldemort as they continued to approach the manor.

Voldemort did not glance back at the werewolf, but did gesture over at the side of the three-story building where the doubledoors to the cellar were. "In there."

He stopped, turning to watch as Greyback and the other werewolves dragged the muggles by their neck around the manor's side towards the wooden cellar doors. There were five muggle prisoners in total, all skinny and afraid.

Glancing away, Voldemort looked up at the third floor window again. The silhouette was gone. So, he looked towards the front door.

The opened and closed with a creak and Bella was standing there on the top stone step, watching in confusion as the werewolves led the muggles towards the side of her childhood home. She looked like she recognized one of the werewolves…

"Friends of yours?" she asked, she had hopped down the front steps and was walking the path towards where Voldemort stood.

"Obedient ones." He said. That was a lie. The werewolves were not his 'friends' nor were they all that obedient.

Bellatrix sighed, stopping in front of him and staring down at her feet. She had not bothered to put on shoes and now her socks were wet with dew.

"I'm sorry, my lord." She apologized, "I won't disobey you again. I promise."

"Why should I believe that?" Voldemort snorted.

And why should he teach her the Dark Arts when she refused to follow his orders? As soon as one or two of Ingvar Karkaroff's students started showing promise, he would teach them instead of Bella.

"Look into my mind." Bella tried, now staring into his red eyes. "You'll see I mean what I say."

"You mean it now." Voldemort corrected, without using Legilimency, "But you'll change your mind as soon as you feel like it."

"I won't!" Bella swore. The expression on her face was earnest and pleading. She truly meant what she was saying at the moment.

But like a child, her emotions were fickle and ever-changing. _No._ Not 'like' a child. Bella _was_ a child. She was still a child because she had never been forced to grow up.

Voldemort did not have time to force that change, which almost always took years, in Bella. Only responsibility, accountability, or tragedy could force adulthood. He would just have to somehow create a more obedient child. _But how?_ Punishment and reward. The only way to train a child…and an animal.

And right now Bella deserved a punishment.

"Prove it, then." Voldemort responded, "Give me your wand." He knew Bella would accept this punishment. She had given him her wand before—though that was for training.

Using any kind of pain spell on her, even a lesser one than the Cruciatus Curse, was too risky. It might turn her against him and at the moment he did not have a replacement student nor the full support of the purebloods to weather that if it happened.

Bella grimaced at the order but did not seem all that surprised or resistant. She sighed and handed Voldemort the wand in her hand. He took it and put it in the pocket of his black robe.

"You'll get this back when you've shown you can follow orders." Voldemort informed Bella.

Bella bowed her head, staring down at her now empty wand hand as it fell limp to her side. "Yes, my lord."

Voldemort wondered what she was thinking. Was truly accepting the punishment? Or just pretending to so she could regain his trust?

"Bella." He said so that she would look up at him.

Bella glanced up at Voldemort. His red eyes peered into her dark ones…

_I should tell him my idea about the Cruciatus Curse—no, he'll think I'm just trying to trick him into punishing me and enjoying it. He can look into my mind, then, and see I'm not—no, he wouldn't believe it anyway, he'd just think I'd change my mind later. But this might be a way to get over my fear of death, which is what he wants me to do so that I can raise inferi._

"Do you have something to tell me?" Voldemort asked.

Bella blinked, then laughed embarrassedly. "I forgot to use Occlumency again, didn't I? I always forget when I've just woken up…"

So she had not waited up for him. Well, of course not. She had not even been able to wait that long when she thought they were going to have sex. And this time she knew he was angry at her.

"What is your idea?" Voldemort inquired.

Bella took a breath before answering, brow furrowed as if she was thinking of the right words (or putting up her Occlumency shield). "Last night, when I was torturing a muggle—which I know you told me not to do, and I apologize for disobeying you, but there was something the muggle said. He said 'just kill me', he wanted to die rather than experience the Cruciatus Curse. Muggles have said that to me before, but I've never paid them any attention. Until now. I was thinking, maybe…maybe if you used the curse on me, I would want to die rather than experience it, and that would make me no longer afraid of death."

 _Pain? Worse than death?_ Voldemort almost chuckled at that. Pain could be recovered from, pain could be accustomed to. Death could not be. Which was why he had created horcruxes, to escape that.

"Muggles are weak." Voldemort dismissed.

"Well, perhaps, my lord…perhaps I'm still weak." Bella reasoned, "Perhaps the Cruciatus Curse is what I need to become strong."

That was the greatest amount of self insight Voldemort had ever seen from Bella. He doubted she had ever admitted her own weakness to anyone else—even herself.

And maybe she was right.

Perhaps Bella _should_ experience a pain spell, Voldemort considered. Even though it was what she wanted—or what she _thought_ she wanted. But she had never experienced that kind of pain before. She most likely did not realize that what she was asking for was legitimately painful rather than just another new and exciting experience.

And that was exactly the lesson Bella needed to learn.

It would make her stronger. It might even make her grow up.

"Fine." Voldemort accepted, "We'll try it. Get dressed and meet me in the field."

Bella nodded. She then turned to hurry back into the manor behind her, almost slipping on the grass as she ran.

Voldemort watched her go. He was not the only one.

Fenrir Greyback and the other werewolves had returned from placing the muggle prisoners in the cellar. He seemed particularly interested in the young woman in the thin nightgown as she opened the front door to the Black Manor and slipped inside.

Greyback sniffed the cool morning air, taking a deep breath of it. "She looks tasty."

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at Greyback.

Which was more disgusting? A werewolf having desire for a pureblood woman that he was unworthy of or a werewolf hoping to corrupt that pureblood woman by turning her into a lowly creature like him? Neither. Both were equally abhorrent.

And equally _absurd._ Bella would never be interested in someone like Greyback and she would kill him before he got close enough to turn her.

"It's time for you and your…people to leave." Voldemort told him as politely as he could force himself to.

Greyback chuckled, then glanced at his fellow werewolves. The two without wands latched on to the two others with wands, and at the same time all five disappeared with a pop.

* * *

 

Just like every morning, the uniformed students lined up on the grassy back lawn of the Black Manor. And just like every morning, their foreign professor stood before them.

"The attack last night was shameful." Karkaroff declared, "You boys—and I say 'boys' because you are not men and not soldiers—broke formation, used none of the spells I taught you, and fled like cowards when the muggle police arrived."

Regulus and the other students stared down at their boots in embarrassment. They were sleepy, having been up late last night and then awoken at sunrise for what was basically a military roll call or register.

Lucius Malfoy was not in line that morning. Thankfully, that was Rodolphus' problem, as Lucius was on his team, and not Regulus' problem. All of Regulus' teammates were present, even Sirius who was confused about what had happened last night while he was still passed out.

Replacing Lucius in line was Alecto Carrow, standing next to her brother Amycus. Surprisingly, Professor Karkaroff had not asked her to leave this time. Probably because she had been at the attack last night and so Karkaroff wanted to punish her, as well.

"Now, I cannot use the punishment I would were we at Durmstrang," Professor Karkaroff continued, "but I will use a lesser spell than the Cruciatus Curse to cause pain so that you boys learn to follow orders—"

"Their parents wouldn't like that." It was Rodolphus who had raised his hand and spoken, making the same point he had made yesterday; that pureblood children could not be corporally punished by anyone but their own parents.

Rodolphus was gesturing at the boys of Regulus' group and had said 'their', but Regulus suspected Rodolphus was also afraid of the pain himself. Regulus wondered if Bella had ever crucioed Rodolphus before, like she had Sirius and that muggle…

"Any boy who wants to run and cry to his parents may go now, before I begin the punishment." Professor Karkaroff offered, gesturing to the Black Manor behind him, "The rest will stay and accept it like men."

He waited for a moment. None of the students moved from their places in line moved from their places in line, though they did glance at each other to see if any of them would leave.

Regulus really wanted to leave. But he knew if he did, he would look like a weak little boy and if he was the only one to leave he would look like a pathetic weak little boy. And so he remained in line, wondering if any of the others were thinking the exact same thing as he was.

"Good." Professor Karkaroff said, "You boys are not complete cowards after all."

Sirius turned to Regulus, whispering. "There was an attack last night? Where? On who? What happened?"

Regulus did not want to explain. There was already so much animosity between him and his brother, but Sirius would absolutely hate Regulus if he knew Regulus had participated in an attack against muggles.

"You." Karkaroff said, pointing at Sirius, "Step out of line. You were not at the monument last night and so you will not be punished for the failure of the others."

Sirius furrowed his brow in confusion but obeyed. He stepped away from his place in line, between Regulus and Evan, moving to stand near the wooden shed.

As soon as he was out of the way, Professor Karkaroff raised his wand.

The students all tensed, bracing themselves—even Sirius who watched with wide gray eyes. Regulus squinted his dark eyes tightly shut. He could not watch the attack coming…

A flash, yellow, like sun would be once it finished rising. Regulus could see it through his eyelids. An ache hex, like the one he had used on Sirius the day Professor Karkaroff had made him punish him and like the one he had used on the muggle last night.

Immediately, Regulus felt the pain. He gritted his teeth so as not to cry out, but ended up screaming anyway.

Most of the students did. One by one the hex struck them and one by one, they fell to the grassy ground.

The only ones able to remain standing Igor Karkaroff and the Carrow siblings, who were probably punished this way by their fathers, and Rodolphus Lestrange, who was probably punished this way by his wife. _Bella…_

Would it have hurt less if _she_ were the one casting the spell? Regulus wondered as his body ached in residual pain and he listened to the shouts of the other students.

With his eyes clamped shut Regulus could almost pretend it was Bella holding her wand at them. The frightening, cackling, _other_ Bella who he had seen punish his brother and torture the muggle. The _real_ Bella.

 _No,_ Regulus realized, if it were Bella it would hurt more.

* * *

 

Bella's hand felt light and empty without her wand. She opened and closed her fingers, hand fidgeting as it was not used to being wandless, as she hurried through the stalks and tallgrasses.

The Dark Lord Voldemort was waiting for her in a clearing of the overgrown field.

 _Did he ever sleep?_ Bella wondered. He had been gone all night and was still awake now, at midmorning. Come to think of it, she had never seen him eat, either…

Bella came to a stop, standing a few feet away from the Dark Lord on the dusty dirt ground. She was avoiding eye-contact with his red eyes not only because she was embarrassed about getting caught disobeying him but also because she did not want him to look into her mind right now, even with her Occlumency shield up.

She did not want him to know that she still believed the two of them were similar. She did not want him to know that asking him to use the Cruciatus Curse on her was not just about freeing her from the fear of death, but also about proving her theory about him.

"Have you ever experienced the Cruciatus Curse?" The Dark Lord asked.

Bella shook her head of long dark hair. "No, my lord." Then, she added, "Have you?" Because she genuinely was curious.

"Unfortunately, yes." Voldemort confirmed.

Bella could not help but look up at him now, thin eyebrows raised in curiosity. She wanted to know the story but doubted he would tell.

"Well?" she tried, anyway.

"Well, from that I learned that the Cruciatus Curse should not be taken lightly." he circumvented, "You use it excessively without appreciation for its power. I don't think you'll be able to handle experiencing it yourself, if you were unable to handle a few hours without using it."

Bella grimaced. The Dark Lord was underestimating her.

"I'm sure I can handle it." Bella declared, folding her arms.

"Alright." Lord Voldemort accepted, though he seemed unconvinced. "Prepare yourself."

He raised his wand and Bella tensed. He said no incantation but a blast of light struck her.

Immediately she was on the ground, muscles aching as if they were being ripped apart. She clamped her eyes shut when she felt them fill with tears. She gritted her teeth so as not to cry out, but ended up screaming anyway.

The Dark Lord lowered his wand and the pain stopped. Bella took a breath and then rose from the ground, brushing the dirt off of her black dress and out of her hair.

"That really hurt…" she admitted, eyes still watery. She hoped the Dark Lord did not notice but she knew he would, and so her face flushed further adding to her embarrassment.

"That wasn't even the Cruciatus Curse." Voldemort smirked. "It was a simple ache hex."

Bella gaped, taken aback. "Seriously!?"

The Dark Lord was chuckling now. "You are too used to comfort. I should have a word with your parents about why they never properly disciplined you."

 _Such a painful spell was proper discipline?_ Bella wondered what kind of circumstances Lord Voldemort had been raised in. She knew he was a halfblood, so he probably grew up poor, but now she was beginning to think his parents had been abusive, too. Maybe his witch mother realized her mistake of marrying a muggle and took out her regret on her own son by using such hexes.

"They _tried_ to discipline me." Bella recounted, now chuckling as well. "But I just disciplined them back. After a while they gave up trying."

The Dark Lord smiled at that, just a little. Bella smiled wider at the memory—and at the fact she was able to make him smile with her instead of just laugh at her.

"I'll be more persistent." Voldemort said, raising his wand again.

The smile fell from Bella's face and her dark eyes widened. "My lord, I'm not ready, wait—" her sentence was interrupted by her scream.

The singeing sensation returned and even though Bella knew it was not the Cruciatus Curse, it still felt horrible, worse than anything she had ever felt before, and so she dropped to the ground again, clutching her arms as if that would help. It did not.

The Dark Lord stared down at her, expressionlessly. There was not even a hint of gratification or amusement at seeing her in pain. Maybe he had been telling the truth about being different from Bella.

That possibility hurt almost as much as the spell. She had always wanted someone to understand how she felt. To understand _her._

"Stop!" Bella cried urgently, though not to the point of begging.

The Dark Lord shook his head in disappointment and lowered his wand. "You were right, earlier, when you said you were still weak."

Bella was eye-level with the ground of the clearing in the field and did not look up at him. She could appreciate it when he was angry at her, even when he was mocking her, but not when he was disappointed in her.

"Do it again." She requested, speaking more to the dust, dirt and trampled plants than to the man standing over her.

Lord Voldemort snorted.

"Do it again." Bella insisted, now staring up at him and into his red eyes, but not attempting to rise from the ground

And so, the Dark Lord raised his wand again. And again, Bella screamed.

* * *

 

How long could a human being, even one with magic, tolerate pain? Less than an hour in Bellatrix needed a break and Lord Voldemort had not even used the Cruciatus Curse yet.

Bella sat hands on her knees, dress dusty and on the dirt ground of the clearing, panting as she was out of breath from screaming. It was a pathetic sight, really.

 _This_ was supposed to be his first soldier? Voldemort thought. How was it even possible for someone to generate a Cruciatus Curse without being able to withstand the curse's effects, let alone the effects of a lesser pain spell? Even he had been unable to use the Cruciatus Curse until it had been used on him first by a fellow student at Hogwarts he had gotten into a fight with and had struck back in vengeful rage.

This particular Unforgiveable Curse was fueled by emotion far more than any other spell; the strength of the victim's pain proportional to the strength of the caster's desire to hurt the victim.

How could Bella want to cause such pain when she never experienced it herself? How could she _be capable_ of wanting to cause such pain when she did not know how it felt herself?

"You said you feed off of the pain of others." Voldemort recalled, "What did you mean by that?"

Bella said nothing for a moment. The only sound from her open mouth was her catching her breath.

Finally, she spoke. "I…don't know how to explain it. It's like I'm just always hungry and the only time I feel full is when I'm causing someone pain. I've felt that way as long as I can remember, I don't know why and I don't feel bad about it." She paused, then added, with sincere disappointment, "I truly thought you'd understand, my lord, that you'd feel that way, too, but it seems I was wrong."

Yes. She was indeed wrong.

Voldemort did not feel that way about pain. He did not hunger for it or feel satisfied when he caused it. However, there was something he did feel that way about.

_Power._

So Bella's suspicion about him had been partially right. (Though, she did not need to know about that—knowledge about someone was a piece of power over that person.)

Voldemort stepped closer to where Bella sat. He saw her dark eyes follow his footsteps.

Bella had given him power, yesterday when she had told the students to bow to him and again today when she had given him her wand, symbolically relinquishing her magic to her. She was feeding him and she did not even realize it— _he_ did not even realize it until she had explained how she fed off of pain.

Maybe she was not so deserving of punishment, after all. Maybe she deserved a reward…

Suddenly, Bella stood up. She was still shorter than Voldemort, but it was not the same as looking down at her fallen on the ground in the after effects of pain.

"I want you to use the Cruciatus Curse on me." Bella said.

"No." Voldemort refused, "You were unable—"

"Exactly!" Bella interrupted to exclaim "So think how painful it would be for me to experience worse. I might want to die rather than feel it. And that's the point of this, isn't it?"

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes in consideration.

What Bella was saying made sense, but he still did not want to crucio her in case doing so would seriously and irreparably injure her. There were tales of people driven insane by the curse. Bella already was not the most mentally stable of people and so the Cruciatus Curse might send her into complete madness, especially since she was not accustomed to pain.

The Dark Lord Voldemort could _not_ have an insane soldier.

"No." Voldemort repeated. "It would be too much for you."

Bella's dark eyes glared.

"Coward." She spat.

Oh, so she was trying to offend him enough that he would crucio her? And she was hardly being subtle about it.

Voldemort rolled his red eyes. "Do you really think I don't know what you're attempting?"

Despite being seen through, Bella remained undeterred. "But you _are_ afraid. You're afraid you'll hurt me so much that I'll refuse to serve you, so much that all the purebloods refuse to serve you since you harmed one of their own."

Despite being seen through, Voldemort remained calm. "You'd never tell them I hurt you. You'd be too ashamed of your weakness, your powerlessness."

Bella hmmed, brow furrowed as she tried to think of another argument. Her empty wand hand was twitching, no doubt longing for its usual companion.

"If you're going to start a war, I need to be ready." Bella reasoned, "You think the mudbloods and the muggle-lovers at the Ministry wouldn't use the Cruciatus Curse on me? I have to be prepared for it—acclimated to it, just like to the possibility of death—so that I no longer fear pain and that it no longer effects me."

So, Bella was smart when she focused on something other than torturing muggles or attempting to seduce whatever male target she had at the moment (currently Lord Voldemort) into bed, it seemed.

"Besides," Bella continued, a bit slyly though sincerely, "I'd rather my first taste of the other side of the Cruciatus Curse come from you, my lord, not some auror."

"How sweet of you to say." Voldemort sniffed—half in disgust and sarcasm, but also half in appreciation of the sentiment which provided him with more power. The power to cause her pain. The power to be the _first_ one to cause her pain.

Bella grinned. She was twisting a strand of her hair with the fingers that would have been holding her wand, a girlish attempt at subtle sensuality that was anything but.

"So you'll do it?" She inquired, hopefully.

"No." Voldemort answer, flatly.

Bella's shoulders sank and she groaned in defeat.

"But I will continue to use the aching hex on you." Voldemort said, "Once you're more accustomed to that, I might consider trying the Cruciatus Curse on you."

Bella sighed. "Alright…"

She steadied herself where she stood, taking a deep breath in anticipation. Lord Voldemort raised his wand.

* * *

 

Muggles. There were only five of them, this time, but this time they were not undead inferi—they were _alive._

Regulus stared at the muggles, skinny and sickly, tied by ropes around their necks and thrown to their knees before the line of Dark Arts students beneath the cloudy afternoon sky. The five muggles were silent and so were the ten students, all too afraid to speak.

"You must redeem yourselves for last night's failure by punishing these muggles." Professor Karkaroff said. "You must use the Cruciatus Curse."

No.

No! No! No!

Regulus really wished he had left when he had the chance, hours earlier. So what if he had looked cowardly? It was better than this and now it was too late to leave.

Professor Karkaroff turned to Regulus. "Your team will attempt first. Step forward."

Regulus, Evan, Alvin and Mordred stepped forward. Sirius did not.

Not again. Was Sirius really going to disobey and argue with the professor _again?_ He should have learned his lesson yesterday! Sure, Bella was not here right now to crucio him, but Professor Karkaroff was probably more than willing to.

Regulus glanced back at his older brother. "Please, Sirius, don't do this again—"

"I have to." Sirius declared, "I'm not going to keep quiet while he has us torture muggles. I can't. I have to stop this." He raised his wand and pointed it at Professor Karkaroff. "Let the muggles go."

Professor Karkaroff glared at Sirius, but Sirius was not who he addressed. Instead, he spoke to the rest of students. "Punish this student for his rebellion or you will all be held responsible."

Immediately, the students in gray uniforms turned their wands on Sirius. Mordred and Alvin were grinning, so were Amycus and Alecto.

Regulus watched, dark eyes wide and body motionless in shock. They were going to attack Sirius! They were going to attack his brother! He had to _do_ something!

…but Regulus did nothing. He was too fearful to do or say anything.

Rodolphus also watched without participating nor doing anything to stop the students from surrounding Sirius. Rodolphus grabbed the back collar of his younger brother Rabastan's uniform, pulling him back so he would not participate, as well.

Regulus wondered why the Lestranges did not want to attack his older brother, Sirius, too.

Sirius tensed, he glanced around as the students surrounded him, pointing their wands at him, preparing to strike—

"Stop!" Regulus shouted, finally.

The eyes of all the students and the professor looked towards him. The eyes of the five muggles did, too.

Regulus was silent for a moment as they stared at him. Regulus could not stare back, he gazed down at the grass as he mumbled, "Just take his wand and lock him in the shed."

It was a compromise. Regulus wanted to protect his brother, but he also had to punish him.

"No!" Sirius shouted.

But Alvin had already grabbed him and Mordred had already taken his wand. The students shoved him sharply towards the wooden shed. Evan jogged ahead to open its door so that the others could push Sirius inside.

Regulus watched, wordlessly.

"No!" Sirius shouted again. "Let me go!" This time Amycus' hand clamped down over his mouth to muffle him as he tried and failed to wretch free of the other boys' grasps.

Amycus, Alecto, Alvin, and Mordred were laughing as he forced Sirius into the doorway of the shed, opened by Evan. Sirius' gray eyes took one last pleading look at his younger brother.

Regulus looked down at his shoes again. He only listened as the door slammed shut and locked on his wandless brother. The wooden shed shook as Sirius banged on the door, trying to get out, but magic had sealed it and without his wand he could not escape.

Igor held Sirius' wand now. He jogged across the grassy backyard of the Black Manor, over to his father who he handed the wand. Professor Karkaroff took it and put it in his black uniform pocket.

"Now, we punish the muggles." Karkaroff declared, gesturing at the five cowering muggles on the ground beside him.

The students turned their gazes and their wands towards the muggles. Even Regulus. _Better the muggles than his brother_ , he thought.

And so, from the shed, Sirius listened to the muggles' screams.

* * *

 

Screaming was annoying. It grated on the ears. Was this really what Bella enjoyed hearing? Well, maybe not her own screams.

Bella was on the ground again, curled in pain because of a simple ache hex. Or perhaps she did enjoy her own screams and that was why she continued to insist that Voldemort use the pain spell on her.

He lowered his wand. The yellow jet of light receded.

Bella stopped screaming and looked up at him, annoyed. "Why did you stop?"

"You're wasting my time." Voldemort said, "You obviously wouldn't rather die, since you keep requesting more pain, so this isn't helping rid you of your fear of death."

"That's because you haven't tried the Cruciatus Curse!" Bella exclaimed, sitting up. She was completely covered in dry dirt dust now.

"And I'm not going to." Voldemort replied.

Bella furrowed her forehead in frustration but then softened her expression and her tone of voice "Someone like you shouldn't be holding back, my lord, I want to feel the full extent of your power."

A new strategy of flattery and mild flirtation. It _almost_ worked.

Voldemort was sure Bella meant what she had said (though he was also sure she had an ulterior motive for saying it). She did want to experience his power and would be impressed by it…but he had no need to impress or prove his power to her, anymore. She was already following him.

Still, Voldemort liked showing off, so he said "And one day you might. But not today."

"Please, my lord, please!" Bella pleaded from the ground, staring up at him with wide dark eyes, still slightly tearful from the pain.

Voldemort just stared down at her with his red eyes. _Screaming_ was annoying but _pleading_ was not.

It was the rightful place of all people on this earth to be at the Dark Lord Voldemort's feet, far beneath him, gazing up at him and begging to him like they were beseeching a god.

Bella was the first to realize that. Good for her. Now, if she could only manage to be consistent about it instead of adoring and obeying him one moment, then arguing with and disobeying him the next.

Voldemort appreciated the pleading but was annoyed at its perseverance.

"No, and don't ask me again, Bella." He warned. "I'll decide when it's time to use the Cruciatus Curse."

Bella sighed and slowly stood up from the trampled plant matter and dusty dirt of the clearing. She did not bother to wipe the grime from her clothing or shake it out of her mess hair this.

Voldemort could see Bella's legs trembling, just slightly and she was clenching her fists. She was still in residual pain from the ache hex, but trying not to show it.

Bella looked into his red eyes with her dark ones, questioningly. "Aren't you going to use the ache hex on me again?"

"No." Voldemort refused, "You've had enough pain for one day—"

"I'm fine!" Bella exclaimed, "Really, I am!" But even her voice was trembling like her limbs.

"Go back to the house and rest." Voldemort ordered.

Would Bella follow the order? Maybe. But he would probably have to give the order several times before she relented and obeyed.

Bella glanced past Voldemort. She could not see the Black Manor from the clearing where they were, but she looked in its general direction, past the tallgrasses and dying stalks. Then, she looked back at his deathly pale face.

"May I have my wand back, at least, my lord?" Bella requested, politely.

"Not yet." Voldemort replied.

Bella grimaced. Her dark gaze darted towards the pocket of Voldemort's robe where she had seen her wand placed into earlier that day.

Voldemort knew what Bella was trying to do before she jumped towards him, her wand hand jolting towards his pocket. Voldemort reached out at caught Bella's wrist, stopping her.

"I'm not going to give you another warning!" he snapped, "If you can't follow my instructions, I'll find another student who will! Your cousin, Regulus, perhaps…"

He released Bella's wrist. Immediately her wrist with her other hand, massaging it like it were sore. Voldemort had not realized he had gripped it so tightly—or, maybe he had not and just like she was too sensitive to the pain of the hexes, she was too sensitive to this, as well. It was most likely that.

Staring down at her wrist in shame instead of up at her lord, Bella backed away from him, retreating. The pink tint of her pale cheeks indicated genuine embarrassment and regret.

"I am so sorry, my lord." She murmured down to her wrist timidly, "I didn't mean to do that, I just couldn't help it. I act without thinking. I do want to follow your instructions I just…I'm just so used to doing whatever I want and breaking the rules. Please forgive me."

Surprisingly, Voldemort did.

He had only known Bella for about ten days now. He could not logically expect absolute loyalty and deference yet. But the fact that someone as strong-willed and defiant as Bella was actually making an effort to obey Voldemort was commendable on her part and a testament to worthiness on his.

There was still time for Bella to develop self-control and obedience.

"Bella." Voldemort said, "Look at me."

Cautiously, Bella's gaze rose from her wrist up towards Voldemort's face, making cautious eye-contact with his red eyes…

_How could I have been so stupid?!_ _I act like an impulsive child. He must think_ _I don't respect him, when I really do. No wonder he isn't interested in me anymore. If he ever really was at all, that is…he probably wasn't. And now doesn't even want me as a student anymore. All I had to do was follow his directions but I couldn't even do that. I failed._

Self-doubt. Self-criticism. Self-blame.

All three were warranted, of course. Bella _should_ feel responsible as well as guilty about her disobedient actions.

But Voldemort could see that these feelings in Bella's mind were very new. She was not accustomed to these emotions and thought processes, and so the feelings were so powerful and painful that they burst through her novice Occlumency shield.

Realizing that Voldemort was looking into her mind, Bella quickly glanced away from him, over at some fallen cornstalks on the dusty dirt ground.

Voldemort could not help but smile.

 _This_ was how Bella should be acting around him. Worried about pleasing him. Embarrassed about failing him. And cautious about what she said and did.

Bella could verbally and magically abuse muggles, mudbloods, and even her own family and friends all she wanted to. But when it came to the Dark Lord Voldemort, she needed to show not only respect but _fear._

Bella might have noticed Voldemort's smile in her peripheral vision, because she turned to face him again.

"I am trying, my lord." She stated, "I'm trying to obey. I've given you my wand, I'm experienced terrible pain," (Voldemort rolled his eyes at that, an ache hex was not 'terrible pain') "I even agreed to be chased by inferi with no way to defend myself. All to be a good student and soldier."

"Why?" Voldemort tested.

Bella paused, confused. "…for the cause? For Pureblood Supremacy?"

That must have been the answer she though Voldemort wanted to hear. But it was not. He did not believe her words and neither did she, by the tone of her voice.

"You were doing nothing for the cause before I arrived." Voldemort dismissed, "It seems to me that you're only doing this for yourself. So that you have more opportunities to torture others for your own satisfaction, more opportunities to prove you're warrior instead of just a weak woman, more opportunities to sleep with a powerful man…"

Bella grimaced then forced a weak smile. "What else is there?"

"The cause." Voldemort echoed her earlier statement. "Restoring Pureblood Supremacy is restoring the natural order. There is no more important job in this world and only a select few are worthy of it. Don't you want to be worthy, Bella? Don't you want to have a purpose? Don't you want to be more than just a child living for instant gratification?"

"I do,my lord." Bella nodded, "I do."

But Voldemort did not believe her. "Prove it. Start obeying me. Fully."

"I want to prove it." Bella responded, "And you can let me prove it by using the Cruciatus Curse on me—even if it doesn't end my fear of death, even if I can barely handle it—let me prove that I'm willing to take that pain for the cause."

Back to that again? Bella truly was unrelenting. A good trait in a soldier—unless the relentlessness was directed at the commander.

The only way to get Bella to stop asking for the Cruciatus Curse, Voldemort realized, was to use it on her. Not for very long—she would be unable to bare it—but just for long enough that she learned its pain and changed her mind about wanting to experience it.

Voldemort sighed. "Fine. I'll give you your chance to prove it."

Bella grinned. "Thank you! Thank you, my lo—"

Bella screamed as the red light from Voldemort's wand struck her, her grin gone and her sentence interrupted. She fell down to the ground again, rolling in the dust as she wailed in agony.

_What had she expected, anyway?_

"Stop!" Bella shrieked. It was almost a command, rather than a plea, she was not yet begging.

Voldemort lowered his wand the red blast of light disappeared. Bella stopped rolling and stared up at him with wide, watery eyes.

Voldemort smirked down at her smugly. "Well, you've certainly proven _something."_

Proven how easily she would change her mind. Proven she had overestimated expectations of her own abilities. Proven she was _weak._

Bella grimaced. She was breathing heavily as if she had just fled the inferi for the past few hours, "Please…again…let me…"

She still had not learned her lesson? She wanted _more_ pain? What was wrong with her?

Maybe he was holding back. Maybe he needed to intensify the curse…

Again, Voldemort raised his wand. Again red light blasted Bella. Again Bella screamed.

This time she did ask him to stop the curse. Whether it was because she did not want to, or because she was unable, Voldemort could not tell. She just screamed.

Voldemort lowered his wand.

"More!" Bella cried. It was all she could manage to say. Her voice was ragged and her bod was heaving.

"No." Voldemort shook his head. "Enough. You—"

" _Please!"_ Bella begged.

Now, for the first time, Bellatrix Lestrange was begging. And she was begging for pain rather than relief. Such a strange young woman…

It was almost a shocking sight. _No._ Not, a sight. A _sound._ Such urgency, such desperation, yet such resolve in her voice, now hoarse from screaming.

Bella stared up at Voldemort with pleading dark eyes from on the dirt below him. She tried to drag herself towards him across the ground, her arms reaching for the bottom of his robe but unable to grasp its black fabric.

"Please." She repeated. Now a whisper, still a beg.

"Alright." Voldemort smiled. How could he say no?

Once again, he raised his wand.

* * *

 

When Bella opened her eyes she was unable to see. It was dark. Her body radiated with a residual ache from something.

_What happened? Where was she?_

Bella attempted to sit up but realized something large and heavy was wrapped around her body. _What the hell?_

Hiss. A think forked tongue waved in front of Bella's face. The snake! It was the Dark Lord's pet snake! What was its name again? _Nagini._ That was it.

It was getting difficult to breathe. Nagini was squeezing.

"Get off of me!" Bella shouted, throat sore and voice hoarse.

The snake squeezed harder.

Bella reached for her wand but could not move her arm. It was trapped by the long, thick body of the snake.

Bella then remembered she did not even have her wand. She had given it to the Dark Lord. _Where was he?_

Adjusting eyes scanned the darkness. The silhouettes of cornstalks and tallgrasses surrounded Bella, but the Dark Lord Voldemort was not in the clearing.

And his pet snake was still squeezing.

Bella stared up at the dark sky above. The sun had long gone down, replaced by moon and stars hidden behind the clouds.

She must have been unconscious for hours. But why? Oh…right. The Cruciatus Curse. Bella had asked the Dark Lord to crucio her and he had finally obliged. Obliged until she had passed out from the pain, just like her weak, muggle-loving cousin Sirius had yesterday.

Bella felt Nagini squeezing tighter and tighter around her body and the dirtied black dress that covered it.

"Help!" Bella cried, voice quiet and weak from a day spent screaming.

She hoped the Dark Lord or Rodolphus or Regulus or anyone, even a pathetic muggle, would run to her aid. But no one heard her cry and she heard no footsteps approach.

Was this really how she would die? Constricted by a giant snake? No!

"Crucio." Bella said. She did not need a wand for that spell.

Red light flashed in the dark. Not a focused jet, but a glow surrounding the woman and the snake.

Nagini tensed around Bella's body, hissing in pain, and then released her. It slithered away across the dusty ground, into the rows of tallgrass and cornstalks.

Bella watched the snake go, chuckling to herself. Once it was gone, Bella forced herself to stand on trembling, weakened legs. Her entire body ached.

But it was a good ache. As bad as the Cruciatus Curse had felt, it had also felt good.

The Cruciatus Curse was fueled by the desire to cause pain. The Dark Lord's crucio was painful. Terribly painful. That meant that the Dark Lord had truly wanted to cause pain.

And so, Bella had been _right._ The Dark Lord _did_ enjoy causing pain, just like she did. The two of them were the same.

A grin on her face, Bella hobbled through the field back to the Black Manor.

* * *

 

Most of the afternoon it was only the Carrow siblings who had been able to successfully cast a Cruciatus Curse. All the other uniformed students had been able to do was shot weak red fizzles from their wands. Their professor shook his goateed head in disgust.

Still, the way the five muggle prisoners had screamed and convulsed when Amycus and Alecto had crucioed them…it had made Regulus sick to hear and to see.

Now, the lesson was over and it was dark. The prisoners had been led away, down into the cellar where they would be trapped until it was time to teach the students by torturing them again. The students had eaten dinner and were now on third floor of the manor, getting ready for bed.

Meanwhile, Regulus had returned outside to back lawn of the Black Manor.

He was vomiting behind the shed.

Regulus clutched his churning stomach with one hand and held his other hand against the wooden wall to support his leaning body. The partially digested dinner erupted from his mouth and fell down onto the grass.

The stomach acid burned his throat, but the pain was not as bad as the ache hex he had experienced that morning…or the Unforgivable Curse the muggles had experienced this afternoon. Regulus vomited again at the memory, this time acid only.

"Who's there?"

Regulus jolted, sputtering in surprise. There was a voice from inside the shed. His brother's voice. Sirius.

Of course, Sirius was still inside the shed. Still inside the shed Regulus had ordered him to be locked in.

"Who's there?!" Sirius' voice repeated from within the wooden shed.

Regulus opened his mouth to answer but vomit fell out instead.

"Let me out of here!"

Regulus wiped his mouth with the sleeve of his black uniform. He rushed around the side of the shed until he was at its front. Once he was, he waved his wand to unlock the wooden door.

Sirius looked up at the open doorway from where he sat on the dirt floor of the shed. It was dark in the shed and dark outside.

"Oh." He spat. "It's you." His gray eyes glared up at his younger brother.

Regulus swallowed the saliva in his mouth. It tasted like vomit. "Sirius, I'm sorry. I only told them to put you in here so they wouldn't hurt you. You understand, right?"

"Just go." Sirius said bitterly, turning away from him.

And so Regulus turned and ran from the doorway in shame, back up the hill to the Black Manor.

* * *

 

There was a knock on the guestroom door.

Voldemort knew who it was on the other side. Bella. It had been hours since she had passed out from the pain of his Cruciatus Curse. He should have known better than to use it on her, but the way she had begged…

Voldemort remained where he sat at the desk working on creating a new spell, and waved his wand.

He heard the door open and shut, footsteps crossing the hardwood floors towards him. They stopped before they got too close.

The dimly-lit guestroom was silent for a few seconds. Bella was the first one to speak.

"You left me in the field."

"You fell unconscious. What was I supposed to do? Pick you up and carry you home?"

Voldemort rose from the desk, the cushioned chair he had sat in sliding out without screeching against the floorboards. Magic. It then pushed itself back into the desk once he had stepped away.

Voldemort turned to face his student.

Despite the dim lighting, he could see the dirt caked onto her black dress and the vegetation stuck in her messy long hair, just like earlier. And just like earlier, her body was shaking with residual pain.

"You couldn't have cleaned yourself up before coming to see me?" Voldemort sniffed.

Bella smiled in mock innocence. "Whatever for, my lord?"

Voldemort knew what she was thinking. He did not have to look into her mind.

"Out of respect." He said, matter-of-factly.

Bella's smile deflated in disappointment. She changed the subject, "Your pet snake tried to eat me."

"I'll talk to her about that." Voldemort promised. And he really intended to as he did not want Nagini eating his most promising soldier, however unruly and annoying she often was.

Bella was still standing there before him, despite apparent exhaustion and pain. She had not come here solely to complain about the snake.

She probably thought she deserved a reward for surviving her first experience with the Cruciatus Curse, for proving her dedication to the cause by accepting pain. And maybe she did, but Voldemort was dreading giving her the reward she no doubt wanted.

If he slept with Bella again, that would be three times. Three times was a pattern, a pattern that could easily develop into an ongoing affair.

Voldemort was reluctant to start one because it would make teaching her, building the army, and gaining the support of the purebloods more complicated than they already were. Plus, every 'romantic' relationship he had ever had ended violently when the woman realized he was using just her for some goal or another.

This time, at least, Bella knew what Voldemort wanted from her. But the question was, what did _she_ want? As disgusting as sex was, Voldemort could force himself to participate if needed. Romance, on the other hand, that was something he had never been able to fake for very long or very convincingly.

"Is there anything else?" Voldemort asked, "You should really go have your mother heal you."

"I feel fine." Bella grinned, _"Wonderful."_

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. "The pain has made you delirious."

"The pain was wonderful." Bella insisted, "I finally know what it feels like to experience the spell I've cast on others for so long. It was pain but so much more. Powerlessness, helplessness, vulnerability. It was wonderful."

"How can pain be 'wonderful'?" Voldemort questioned.

"Because you are powerful." Bella explained, "I felt your power when you used the curse on me. It was like you were inside me."

Voldemort raised an eyebrow.

Bella continued, "No, I mean, it flowed through my veins like it was my blood. Radiated through me like it was my magic. It was overwhelming, more than the pain was. I never would have let anyone else do that to me, no one else is worthy. But I let you, my lord, you and only you."

It was then that Voldemort realized what he had done.

He had been the first one to cause her pain. The first one to make her obey. The first one to earn her respect.

…he might as well have taken her virginity.

Voldemort could not decide at the moment whether that was a good thing or a bad thing. It could be useful tool, a mild annoyance, or a serious problem.

"I said I wanted my life to have a purpose." Bella completed, "Now, I know I want that purpose to be you."

For a moment, Voldemort was quiet. His red eyes stared at Bella's sincere and smiling face, gazing at him adoringly from where she stood a few feet away.

What she had said...an affirmation of his power and that he was more powerful than all others, along with a declaration of loyalty and worship. It was everything Voldemort wanted to hear from a follower—what he expected to hear from all his followers…just not yet, not so soon.

Bella could not have possibly meant everything she had said. No, she must have been lying to get what she wanted the way he had lied to get what he wanted in the past (and would again in the future).

Voldemort looked into Bella's dark eyes.

There was Occlumency shield guarding her mind now. She wanted him to know that she was telling the truth.

Red eyes blinked in surprise. But quickly, that surprise turned to satisfaction. The Dark Lord Voldemort was finally getting the admiration he deserved.

"My lord?" Bella checked.

Her voice and facial expression were expectant as well as a little worried. She was waiting for Voldemort to respond to her monologue.

And he did respond. Just not with words. Voldemort took the few steps over towards where Bella stood in front of him, leaned down and kissed her.

And, for the first time, it was not because he wanted something from her. It was because he had already received it.


	17. Chapter 17

The room was dark and it must have been almost midnight, but Rodolphus Lestrange was not asleep. He lay awake on the bed nearest to the window in the bedroom that had once been his wife Bellatrix's.

Her bed was empty.

On the other side of the empty middle one, Regulus Black was sleeping in the third bed. Rodolphus could hear the teenager tossing and turning, probably having nightmares about tortured muggles and how cruel his cousin truly was. _Stupid kid._ Rodolphus almost felt sorry for him…

The door creaked open.

Rod tensed, remaining still as familiar footsteps crept into the dark bedroom. _Bella._ She was sneaking in after a late night with another man.

Rod bit his tongue to contain his laughter. He squinted his eyes to contain his tears.

Bella had never bothered to hide her infidelity before. She would stride proudly into their London house in the early morning, stomping up the stairs to make sure her husband woke up and knew that she had snuck away to be with another man.

The only reason Bella was sneaking in now was because she knew Regulus was here. She did not want her baby cousin to know what kind of person she really was. But it was too late, Regulus already knew and Bella did not even realize that.

Rod could smell the steamy and soapy scent of a shower. Bella even had the decency to clean herself up this time, too. Again, probably only because her cousin was here, not for her own husband.

Slowly, quietly, Bella's silhouette crossed the dark room towards the middle bed between the beds where Regulus slept and Rod lay awake. She pulled open the covers bed and slipped between them.

The mattress creaked.

Bella was motionless for a moment, waiting to see if Regulus or Rodolphus would move. When they did not, she sighed in relief, resting her dark-haired head on her pillow.

"Bella." Rod said.

Bella jolted, turning her head towards him. He did not look at her, instead staring up through the darkness at the ceiling, lying on his back.

"Quiet, Rod." Bella hissed, "You'll wake the baby." She gestured at Regulus, still tossing and turning in the bed on the other side of hers.

"That'll do him a favor." Rod replied, "He's having a nightmare. He'll probably wet the bed." He chuckled quietly.

"Shh." Bella shushed.

Rod continued chuckling. "So when the Dark Lord's done with you he just kicks you out of bed and sends you away, then?"

"Be flattered." Bella said, "I've never spent the whole night with any other man but you."

Rod rolled his green eyes, "You hardly ever do that."

"I love arguing with you, you know that, but not here, not now." Bella dismissed, "Not—"

"With your cousin in the room?" Rod completed. "You're fine with him knowing you're a sadist, but you don't want him to know you're a whore."

The words sounded meaner than he had meant them to. Maybe he was angrier than he admitted to himself.

Luckily, Bella only snorted in response, unoffended. The only sure way to offend her was questioning her blood purity and her loyalty to Pureblood Supremacy.

Rod sighed, adding, "I've never understood you, Bella."

"And you never will." Bella returned, "Goodnight, Rod."

She turned away from him, pulling her covers close to create a shield between her and her husband in the next bed. Rod glanced at this and then back up at the ceiling, closing his eyes.

Now that Bella was here in the room with him he could finally sleep.

* * *

Bella had never been a 'morning person'. If someone did not wake her up early, then she would sleep past noon. At Hogwarts, waking her up for class had been her sisters' job.

But now, Bella's remaining sister was gone, along with her husband. According to her mother, Lucius had returned in a huff, collected Narcissa, and apparated away to inform his father, about 'the Dark Lord's impetuous and irresponsible attack on muggles'.

Said attack was on the front page of the Daily Prophet that day. _Werewolves Attack Muggle Festival at Stonehenge!_

 _Werewolves?_ So those were the 'friends' the Dark Lord had invited. Bella blinked in surprise when she saw the title, and the moving picture of the attack's aftermath; a tent city burned to the ground and sprawled muggles fallen on the charred ground.

The newspaper was held in her father's hands. Cygnus was reading some article inside, ignoring her from his black armchair as she walked into the dimly-lit sittingroom, holding the paper up to cover his face so he did not have to look at her.

Bella thought she had gone into the guestroom without anyone knowing, but apparently her father knew. She had stayed in the room too long to have simply been having a conversation with Dark Lord.

Bella rolled her dark eyes. "Ignoring me like my husband does when he's cross with me? Merlin, both of you are women."

Not Rodolphus so much anymore, though. At least he had had the courage to confront her last night. Calling her a whore? Bella was proud of him. He might have even said more had he known she did not have her wand.

Maybe this Dark Arts training was finally manning Rodolphus up. Maybe that meant there was hope for Regulus, too…

"I've said what I had to say and you refused to listen." Cygnus grunted, fingers clenching tightly around the sides of the newspaper he held, trying and failing to remain calm.

He turned to the next page of the newspaper. It still covered his pale and wrinkled face that must have been contorted into a terrible scowl.

Bella looked across from her father, at the other black armchair where her mother would sit once she was done cleaning up the diningroom after the students' breakfast (they really needed to get new House Elves), and then at the wooden coffeetable in front of the black couch. On the coffee table was an opened envelope, beside it a white piece of parchment with scrawled writing on it.

A letter.

"Who's it from?" Bella wondered aloud.

Her father did not answer. He turned the page of the newspaper again with more force than necessary.

Bella trotted across the hardwood floor over to the coffeetable. She picked up the letter, holding it up towards the overhead lamp, the only light source in the otherwise dim room, so that she could read it.

_Cygnus,_

_My son informed me about an attack on muggles at Stonehenge last night. The Ministry of Magic found about it, as did the Daily Prophet, which plans to report on it in tomorrow's paper. Thankfully, they believe it was werewolves who attacked. But we both know who is truly responsible. Tom's recklessness endangered our pureblood children and could have exposed us all. I am coming tomorrow to put a stop to this. I should never have agreed to support this Dark Arts training program, and I will be shutting it down._

_Sincerely,_

_Abraxas_

Bella lowered the letter and turned to her father. "When did you get this?!"

"Yesterday." Cygnus said from behind the Daily Prophet in his hands, face still hidden.

"And _why_ didn't you tell me or the Dark Lord?!" Bella questioned, fist already clenching tightly around the letter in her hand.

Her father was lucky she did not have her wand right now. _Very_ lucky.

Cygnus lowered the newspaper down to his lap, sharply, revealing a face wrinkled in anger as well as stress-accelerated aging.

"Because I knew how you both would react!" He snapped.

Bella crumped the parchment in her hand and threw it at him. It missed, hitting the top of the black armchair, right above his gray hair, then bouncing off and landing on the floorboards.

"See?!" Cygnus exclaim, gesturing at the crumpled letter with one hand and slamming the newspaper down onto the coffeetable with the other, "You lose your temper too easily!"

"And who did I inherit _that_ from, I wonder?" Bella sniffed, folding her arms over the top of her nightgown.

Cygnus sighed.

"Go tell your 'Dark Lord' that Abraxas Malfoy will be arriving soon." He replied, "If he is angry, let him take it out on you, because if he tries to take it out on Abraxas, it won't matter that he's a powerful wizard or Dark Lord or whatever else he thinks he is, Abraxas will arrange to have him spend the rest of his life in Azkaban."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Bella accused, narrowing her dark eyes.

Cygnus shook his head. "No, I wouldn't, actually. I agree with his goal of Pureblood Supremacy and I want him to succeed. I just don't think his plans should include you, a woman, as a soldier or in any _other_ capacity."

Bella snickered.

Suddenly, there were sounds in another room. Footsteps and voices. Bella and Cygnus turned their heads towards the doorway to the hall.

"I know they cleaned this place up for the party, but still. It's so…dreary and depressing here. How do they live like this?"

The voice of Abraxas Malfoy.

"I know, father, it was torture to stay here, even for only a week. Just look at that drab wallpaper."

The voice of Lucius Malfoy.

"Is that wallpaper? I thought it was grime. It's so dark in here I can hardly see. Do they ever turn on the lights?"

"Whatever happened to their House Elves? They need the help maintaining a property of this size."

"Oh, I can certainly see that. Look at the dust on those curtains."

Both Bella and Cygnus were glaring with dark eyes as silver-eyed Abraxas and Lucius arrived in the doorway to the dimly-lit sittingroom. The men wore white robes, as usual, instead of the black that Bella and Cygnus wore or the gray that the uniformed students did.

"Good morning, Cygnus." Abraxas greeted, nodding towards the gray-haired man in the armchair. He then turned towards Bella. "And, Bellatrix, a picture of class as always." He gestured to her thin nightgown.

Bella ignored him, instead turning towards Lucius. "Ran home and tattled to your daddy, Lucy?"

Lucius grimaced, for a moment, then retorted. "Someone had to be the adult. An impulsive, unstrategized attack on muggles by untrained and unruly teenagers? That's a level of immaturity and lack of common sense normally seen only in children."

He and his father both chuckled. Bella really wished she had her wand.

"You dare insult the Dark Lord?!" she griped, empty wand hand fighting the urge to point threateningly in the direction of the Malfoys.

Abraxas raised a white eyebrow, noticing the lack of wand in Bella's hand but did not comment. Instead he requested, "Well, I would like to have a word with him, please. Where is he?"

"I'm right here."

Both Abraxas and Lucius jolted in surprise at the voice. The Dark Lord had suddenly appeared behind them in the doorway. He had not apparated, as it was impossible to apparate into the property, so he must have just walked up very quietly behind them.

Bella cackled at how startled the father and son were (even though she too had not noticed the Dark Lord until he was right there in the doorway).

Abraxas and Lucius turned around to face the Dark Lord.

"Good morning, Tom." Abraxas greeted, extending a hand to shake.

"That's not my name." The Dark Lord did not accept the handshake.

Abraxas sighed in annoyance. "Is there somewhere we can speak in private?"

"The library." The Dark Lord suggested.

"Yes, my son and I just arrived through its fireplace." Abraxas recalled.

He turned, leaving the doorway and starting back down the hallway in the direction he had just come from. The Dark Lord move to follow.

So did Bella.

Abraxas stopped. "I said 'in private'."

Bella rolled her eyes at him and then looked at the Dark Lord. He nodded, indicating that she should stay behind. Bella slouched her shoulders in defeat and watched the two middle-aged men disappear from the doorway.

Lucius attempted to follow them as well, but was similarly rebuffed. At that, Bella was able to laugh.

* * *

As soon as he entered the library, Abraxas directed his wand at the fireplace and orange flames appeared to brighten the otherwise dimly-lit room.

"There." he sighed, smiling at the flames "Finally some much needed lighting."

"The Dark Arts don't flourish in the light." Voldemort replied as he walked through the doorway.

The walls were lined with bookshelves and the titles of books gazed down at the two wizards. Dust seemed to cement the covers of the books together as if most had not been picked up and read in many years.

Abraxas turned to face Voldemort, rolling his silver eyes. "The concept is figurative, not literal. The Dark Arts is simply magic driven into hiding by mainstream Wizarding Society, just like Wizarding Society itself was driven into hiding by muggles."

"Exactly." Voldemort agreed, "Which is why I ordered the attack against the muggles encroaching onto Stonehenge."

"You should never have ordered _anything_ without my approval." Abraxas huffed, "You can parade around as the 'Dark Lord' in front of the children, make them bow to you like my son Lucius reported to me that you did, but don't forget who's really in charge."

"You think you're in charge?" Voldemort scoffed, "Why? Because you have the most money? Because your father was? While I was abroad training in the Dark Arts for decades, you allowed pureblood power in England to decline to almost nothing. Clearly it's time for a change in leadership."

"There will be." Abraxas stated, "When I become the next Minister of Magic."

"So you are going to run." Voldemort said. "Rodolphus Lestrange suspected you might."

"Yes." Abraxas confirmed, "And I would not be able to if you hadn't come back trying to start all this 'Dark Lord' business—"

"Then you need my help." Voldemort interrupted.

"And you need mine." Abraxas returned, "The purebloods agree with what you have to say, but you can't forget what you are. They'll never follow a halfblood unless I tell them to. Without me you're nothing."

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at the insult, instinctively reaching into his robe pocket for his wand, pulling it out and pointing it at Abraxas.

"Don't you dare draw on me, halfblood." Abraxas scoffed. He then narrowed his silver eyes and added, "Is that even your wand?"

Voldemort glanced down at the wand in his hand.

No…it was not his wand. It was Bella's. In his anger at Abraxas he had forgotten that he had put her wand in his pocket earlier, along with his own, and grabbed the wrong one.

"It's a spare." Voldemort lied.

"Put it away." Abraxas ordered, "This isn't Hogwarts. Some of the others might still be afraid of you, but _I'm_ not. I never was."

Alright. Abraxas had to die. As soon as the Dark Lord Voldemort had overthrown the Ministry of Magic and taken power, Abraxas would be executed for such disrespect.

Voldemort put the wand back into his pocket and removed an empty hand.

"My apologies." he forced himself to apologize through gritted teeth and fake smile, "We have to work together to achieve our goals and so we have to be civil with each other. I won't raise my wand at you again and hopefully you won't feel the need to remind me of my blood status in future conversations."

Abraxas grimaced, slightly, attempting his own fake smile and fake apology. "Yes, I suppose that was…rude of me."

A brief, awkward silence filled the library, punctuated only by the orange flames crackling in the fireplace though there was no wood for them to burn.

"Anyway," Abraxas continued, "the reason I'm here is not just to tell you not to order any more attacks on muggles without my approval, it is also to inform you of my larger plan to win the election."

"The election doesn't matter." Voldemort dismissed, "Once I overthrow the Ministry—"

"Overthrowing the Ministry of Magic is impossible." Abraxas countered, "The government has existed for millennia, it can't be toppled. But it can be changed from within. Once I'm elected, I'll legally revoke citizenship from all mudbloods, segregate society based on blood status, and imprison anyone who resists. Much less messy than a rebellion."

"How do you plan on getting elected?" Voldemort questioned, "The Wizarding World has turned against the Pureblood elite—"

"That's where 'Lord Voldemort' comes in." Abraxas explained, "You can conduct multiple terrorist attacks, claim responsibility, and declare that you're doing it for mudblood—I mean 'muggleborn'—rights. That will turn everyone against mudbloods. Then, I will propose my plan to separate mudbloods from true wizards and witches and get elected on the promise of safety. Months go on, and with each new terrorist attack, I'm able to pass another law against mudbloods, until finally they're completely expelled from the Wizarding Society. Then, I defeat 'Lord Voldemort' in battle, proving my capability as leader, earning the trust of the public, and solidifying my reelection."

"No." Voldemort refused, "I'm not participating in a plan in which I must pretend to be a mudblood."

"No one will know it's you." Abraxas reasoned, "Once 'Lord Voldemort' is defeated, I'll appoint Tom Riddle to whatever high position in the Ministry you want."

"If I wanted to work for the Ministry, I would already have whatever high position I want." Voldemort refused again, folding his arms, "I won't do it."

"You will do as I say." Abraxas declared.

"You think _you_ can tell _me_ what to do?" Voldemort scoffed.

"If you defy me, then I will not support you as the new Dark Lord and I'll be shutting down your Dark Arts training." Abraxas stated, shaking his head, ponytailed white hair shaking, too.

With that, he stomped past Voldemort and out of the library. The fire in the fireplace extinguished as soon as he brisked through the doorway.

* * *

The uniformed students were lined up in front of their professor (except for Sirius, who was locked in the shed again) when the back door to the Black Manor suddenly swung open. They all turned to see who had exited the building.

Abraxas Malfoy was striding down the hill towards them, an angry expression on his pale face. A few moments later, the Dark Lord was striding down the hill, an even angrier expression on his even paler face.

Lucius and Bella came through the back door and down the hill, hurrying after them both.

Rodolphus watched the four approach with narrowed green eyes. Why did Bella always have to parade around in front of everyone in her nightgown?

Abraxas passed Karkaroff to stand in front of the students in line. "This Dark Arts training program is hereby discontinued." Abraxas declared as soon as he stopped and was facing the students.

The students gasped.

"What is the meaning of this?" Karkaroff demanded in his accented English.

"I don't know who you are, but you need to return to wherever you came from." Abraxas replied, "I'm not surprised that Riddle would allow this foreign influence over the pureblood children of England. Are you even a pureblood?"

Karkaroff scowled in offense. "My blood is pure and so is my son's."

"You're not shutting down the training!" Bella exclaimed, stomping towards Abraxas. Her wand hand was empty, for some reason, so she pointed with just a finger.

"That's not your decision to make." Lucius countered, standing between her and his father.

"No, it's mine." The Dark Lord said, "And training will continue."

"No, it will not." Abraxas replied, "I won't allow it to."

"But why?"

A voice from the line of students had spoken. Silver eyes blinking in surprise, Abraxas turned to its source.

It was Alecto Carrow.

"Why can't the training continue, Mr. Malfoy?" she asked, "We're finally learning the stuff Hogwarts won't teach us, the stuff we need to know to defeat the mudbloods and muggles."

"Yeah." Amycus agreed, "They're taking over, the mudbloods and halfbloods are. Don't you want us to stop them?"

"I do." Abraxas said, "But after the events at Stonehenge—"

"Attacking Stonehenge was _awesome!"_ Mordred declared, "Most fun I ever had in my life and it was for a good cause, too."

"We have to reestablish Pureblood Supremacy." Evan added

"You can't shut this down now, Mr. Malfoy, we're just getting started!" Alvin cried, "We're going to wage war to reestablish Pureblood Supremacy!"

"Listen to me, boys—"Abraxas attempted, but was interrupted yet again.

"It seems there is unanimous resistance to your decision, Abraxas." The Dark Lord smirked, walking over to where Abraxas stood.

The white-haired man turned to face the dark-haired man. "From children, yes." Abraxas admitted, "But their parents will agree with me."

"Ours won't." Amycus said, "Our dad's been wanting a war with the mudbloods for a long time now."

"My dad, too." Mordred agreed. "He said he'll quit the Ministry if things keep going the way they have with mudbloods getting more and more rights."

"Our father already moved himself and his business out of the country over the Ministry of Magic's restrictions." Rabastan added, "I'm sure he wouldn't mind a war, either, if it meant us purebloods would regain control. Right, Rod?"

Rod nodded, even though he doubted his father actually cared. The purebloods still ruled in France and the Lestranges were rich there.

Evan and Alvin grimaced silently. They glanced at each other nervously, knowing that their parents were not actually keen on a war and had only reluctantly allowed them to participate in the Dark Arts training because Abraxas had requested it, and now that Abraxas wanted to end the camp, their parents would be delighted to oblige.

"My mum wants a war." Regulus mumbled down at the grass beneath his feet, almost too quietly to be heard.

Bella heard him anyway. "That's right, Reggie. And so do my parents. And so I."

"We all want a war." Abraxas accepted, turning to the students again, "But now is not the time—"

"Then when?" Bella demanded, "We've waited too long already. If we wait any more, the mudbloods will start their own army to kill us all. We have to strike first."

"She's right." Rodolphus stated, "And if you won't support this training, Mr. Malfoy, and Lord Voldemort as the new Dark Lord, then my father will. We'll move the training to France— _out_ of your realm of influence—and continue it there."

Rod did not like the Dark Lord. He did not agree with his methods, or with him sleeping with his wife. Still, Rod knew that the only way to stay in Bella's favor was by siding with the Dark Lord. Plus, he had never liked the Malfoys anyway.

Abraxas' silver eyes widened then narrowed, white eyebrows rising. "Really?"

"Yes." Rod affirmed, "And I think there will be many that join us." He gestured at the uniformed students still in line.

The students in line nodded. Even Alvin and Evan, whose parents would actually side with the Malfoys if it came to it. And even Regulus who clearly did not really want to participate in this camp at all.

The group had decided.

"…fine, fine." Abraxas acquiesced, waving his empty hand as if he did not care but grimacing because he did. "I will allow the Dark Arts training to continue—on one condition." He looked away from Rod, over at the Dark Lord. "There shall be no more attacks on muggles or on any other targets without my order or approval."

"You don't understand, Abraxas." The Dark Lord said, "You're not in control here anymore."

"All hail the Dark Lord!" Bella cried, suddenly.

She then stared expectantly at the line of uniform students until they echoed the cry.

"All hail the Dark Lord!"

Bella dropped to her knees into a bow at the Dark Lord's feet. The students in line dropped down into bows, too, and their professor Ingvar Karkaroff did, as well. Finally, did Rodolphus from where he stood next to Bella, even though he really did not want to.

Abraxas and Lucius watched in horror. The Dark Lord smirked triumphantly.

* * *

Bella sipped her tea through the smirk on her lips.

The students were eating lunch in the diningroom. The Dark Lord and Abraxas Malfoy were once again conversing down the hall in the library.

But Bella was in the sittingroom. She reclined comfortably on the couch in front of the coffeetable.

Lucius stood tense and awkward, not drinking the tea he had been offered, which sat cooling on the table. He had pulled open the black curtains from the window, allowing some light into the otherwise dim room, and was now staring out at the empty back lawn, refusing to look at Bella.

"So…" Bella began, "How's Cissy?" She leaned forward to set down the teacup atop the coaster on the coffeetable.

"Fine." Lucius responded, shortly.

"You two have been married, what, almost four years now?" Bella recalled, "And still no baby? I know how desperately she wants one. It must be frustrating being unable to give your wife what she wants—though she's probably the more frustrated one."

Finally, Lucius turned to glare at Bella. "This coming from a woman who's been married almost seven years and is still not a mother? You must be barren considering how many men have touched you and left nothing behind."

"Now it sounds like you're jealous that you were never among those men." Bella grinned.

"Not jealous." Lucius shook his blond head, "Just disgusted. Especially since I hear the newest is a halfblood." His silver eyes glanced towards the doorway to the hall in the direction of the library where his father and the Dark Lord were talking.

Bella's dark eyes widened for a moment. _How could he know?—no, there was no way he knew. He was just trying to insult her._

Bella snorted. "Have you been gossiping like a schoolgirl with Cissy's friends? They've never forgiven me for borrowing their husbands without their permission."

"It was your husband that implied it at dinner the other night." Lucius sneered.

Bella tensed.

She trusted Rodolphus. Sure, he was not happy about her latest affair (or any of the others), but he was not stupid enough to complain publicly about it, since it made him look like he could not satisfy nor control his own wife. She would have to talk to Rod later.

"He's overly suspicious." Bella dismissed.

"And for good reason." Lucius chuckled. "But he should know better than to voice his suspicions. You should really keep a tighter leash on your lapdog. Imagine if word got out that you were having relations with a halfblood. That would put a quick end to the self-appointed Dark Lord's plans, now wouldn't?"

Bella narrowed her eyes. _Was Lucius seriously trying to threaten her?_

Her brother-in-law had always been so cowardly; Lucius hid behind his father's authority whenever he did, said, or wanted anything. But he had not yet mentioned his father during this conversation.

Bella was grudgingly impressed. Maybe the Dark Arts training had manned Lucius up a bit, too, just like it had Rod (and hopefully Regulus, soon).

"It might." Bella allowed, "But imagine if word got out that the reason you've been unable to produce a male heir—or any child at all—is because you prefer male heirs to your own wife?"

"That would be a lie!" Lucius exclaimed in offense and alarm.

He was a pretty boy who avoided fights and spent a little too much time tending to his long blond hair. Bella knew he was straight, but considering his look and demeanor there would be those willing to believe that he was not.

"So is your accusation that I'm sleeping with a halfblood." Bella returned, matter-of-factly, "So I suppose we'll both have to keep our mouths shut, won't we?"

Lucius grimaced, but nodded in grudging agreement.

* * *

Abraxas did not bother to light the fireplace when he entered the library this time. He stood in the dark, glaring at Voldemort.

"If you won't agree to my plan, what _do_ you want to do?" Abraxas demanded.

" _My_ plan." Voldemort replied, "Which I already explained to you and the other men at the gathering last week."

Abraxas shook his head. "Your plan is insane. You can't just storm the Ministry of Magic and assassinate the Minister. Not only does the Ministry outnumber us, the building has all sorts of security spells in place making an assault impossible."

"An army of inferi will make up for the difference in numbers." Voldemort reasoned. "And as for the security spells, that is why we'll need spies within the Ministry to find out what the security measures are and disable them."

"And where are you going to get those, exactly?" Abraxas scoffed, raising a white eyebrow.

"Myrdin Mulciber already works for the Ministry." Voldemort said, "And we can recruit others."

"And if even one of them gets discovered, then the entire plan will be compromised and we'll all be sent to Azkaban." Abraxas responded. "You're talking like a madman. Your plan is as foolish as your attack on Stonehenge."

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. "What's foolish is you continuing to insult me." His fingers clenched around his wand—and actually his wand, this time—but he did not raise it.

"Are you threatening me again?" Abraxas snorted, "Just because you've got a group of teenagers and a few opportunistic Lestranges on your side doesn't mean I'll fall in line, as well. Teenagers are easy to convince. You just take the trace off their wand and allow them to run wild without consequence. Of course they'll favor you for that. But their parents won't be as easy to convince."

"We'll see." Voldemort accepted the challenge.

"We will." Abraxas returned. It was all he could say at that point.

His facial expression attempted to hide how embarrassed and annoyed he was. Voldemort's facial expression attempted to hide how humorous and satisfying that was. Neither attempt was very successful.

Voldemort decided he would embarrass Abraxas a few more times before he finally killed him.

"Until then we should establish some terms for our continued cooperation." Voldemort stated.

"Terms?" Abraxas sniffed.

"Yes." Voldemort said, "Terms. The most important one being that I don't want to hear the name 'Tom Riddle' ever again."

"Is that all?" Abraxas blinked, "How can a name be so—"

"That _isn't_ all." Voldemort continued, "I also don't want to hear mention of my blood status again, either."

"Yes, you told me that already." Abraxas recalled, "Anything else? Or may I suggest a term of my own. Don't try to undermine me in front of those children or anyone else in the pureblood community. Whether you have their support for a war or not, you're still an outsider, and so to have any legitimacy, you need the Malfoy seal of approval."

"Or the approval of another wealthy, powerful pureblood family." Voldemort added.

"There is no other pureblood family as wealthy and powerful as mine." Abraxas dismissed. "That's the way it's always been for the past five hundred centuries and that's the way it will always be."

Abraxas turned and started towards the fireless fireplace, reaching into the pocket of his white robe for some floo powder. "Lucius!" he called.

And his son came rushing into the dimly-lit library. Apparently, he had been waiting right outside the door. He gave Voldemort a spiteful look out of the corner of his silver eye as he passed him on his way to his father.

Voldemort watched the Malfoy father and son disappear into the green flames of the fireplace.

As soon as they did, Bella came rushing into the dimly-lit library. Apparently, she had been waiting right outside the door, too.

"So did you crucio the old man into submission?" Bella asked, hopefully, even though she must have known full well that Abraxas had not been tortured as she had heard no screaming.

"'Old man'?" Voldemort repeated, slightly taken aback, "Abraxas is only two years older than I am." He then added, "And no, I don't have the luxury of torturing away my problems like you do."

Well, not here in England, anyway. Not when he was trying to gain the support of the purebloods. Not _yet._

Bella was lucky.

Not only had she tortured and killed muggles without consequence, she had used the Cruciatus Curse on her own pureblood cousin, the male heir to the Black Family without consequence, as well. That was the privilege of being a rich pureblood young woman.

"You will soon, my lord." Bella smiled, "You saw how the boys took your side over Abraxas', how they bowed to you and hailed you. They respect you."

Respect was only part of what Voldemort needed. He needed obedience, as well, and so far none of the students had been completely obedient (even and especially Bella); the students had attacked Stonehenge as he had ordered, yes, but only because they appreciated the excuse to cause mayhem. Would they still obey him when he ordered them to do something they did not want to do? That remained to be seen…

"And Abraxas is going to do everything in his power to make sure their parents don't." Voldemort replied.

"It won't work." Bella stated with certainty, "Everyone wants a war. It's inevitable now." She folded her arms, "But next time we attack, we can't let the Werewolves take the credit."

"It's still too soon to reveal ourselves and our intentions." Voldemort disagreed, "The army still hasn't had enough training and I haven't yet given it a name. Be patient."

Bella sighed. "Well, in the meantime, may I please have my wand back?"

Voldemort hmmed, considering this. Bella had gotten the students to bow to him today in front of Abraxas, but she had still disobeyed him two nights earlier.

"Not yet." He decided.

Bella pouted for a moment. Then, she stepped towards Voldemort, reaching towards his pale face and staring up into his red eyes.

"Please, my lord?" she tried. Her voice was half way between a little girl attempting to be cute and a woman attempting to be seductive, to get what she wanted.

Did she really think that would work? Well, it probably did on weaker men.

Voldemort caught her hand before it could touch his face. "You know better."

He glanced behind Bella at the open doorway to the library. Anyone could walk through it into the dimly-lit room and see the two of them together. Then, he glanced behind himself at the fireplace. Anyone could walk through it into the dimly-lit room, as well.

Bella probably liked that risk. Voldemort did not.

He released Bella's hand and she lowered it, her dark eyes following its descent as it fell to her side to stare down floorboards in defeat.

"I know." Bella nodded.

* * *

It was just after lunch when Rodolphus heard the knock on the bathroom door.

"Occupied!" Rodolphus called in annoyance. _Could he not just take a piss in peace?_

The door to the first floor bathroom opened anyway. Bellatrix had no respect for privacy. She strolled into the black-tiled room, not even bothering to close the door behind her.

With his free hand, Rod pulled his wand from his uniform pocket, flicking it at the door. The door quickly closed and locked.

"What is your problem?" Rod snapped. His green eyes turned to glare at his wife, but his body remained angled in the direction on the toilet.

Bella had changed out of her nightgown and into a black dress. Oh, so she wore a nightgown in front of company, but was appropriately clothed in front of her own husband. Typical Bella.

Bella smirked at Rod, then leaning across from where he stood on the edge of the marble sink. Even the bathroom, like every other room in the Black Manor, was black.

"Watch your aim." Bella warned, giggling.

Rod glanced down. He had missed. His free hand waved his wand again and the liquid disappeared, but it was still embarrassing.

Rod zipped up his black trousers and turned to Bella. "What do you want?"

"Why did you tell Lucius I was sleeping with the Dark Lord?" Bella asked. It was rare for her to whisper but she was whispering now.

Rod blinked, taken aback. "I…didn't?"

"Well, he said you implied as much at dinner a few nights ago." Bella explained.

Furrowing his forehead, Rod thought for a moment. Yes, he did remember an offhanded comment he had made about Durmstrang professors sleeping with their students, but it would be a stretch to infer anything specific about Bella and the Dark Lord from that.

"I was in a bad mood and I did say something facetious in anger." Rod admitted, "But it was nothing that Lucius could use against you or the Dark Lord. He was probably just upset that the Dark Lord embarrassed his father today and so trying whatever baseless insults he could."

"I know." Bella agreed, "But I had to threaten to spread a rumor about him to shut him up."

"How would you do that?" Rod scoffed, "You don't have any female friends to gossip with anymore." _Because she had slept with most of their husbands,_ Rod did not add.

Bella's dark eyes narrowed.

"You said that you were in a bad mood." She redirected, "That you said what you said in anger."

"…yes." Rod confirmed. He already had a suspicion about the direction Bella wanted to take this conversation in. "I take it you want to continue our earlier argument—"

"No." Bella denied, "I just want to know why this affair bothers you more than all the others. Is it because he's a halfblood?"

"Well, that certainly doesn't help." Rod replied. The Dark Lord's blood status should have bothered him more than it did, he knew, especially because now he was essentially sharing a woman with a halfblood.

But the difference between the Malfoys and the Lestranges was that the Lestranges prioritized money over blood purity. The Malfoys lost money at their apothecary by refusing to sell to those without pure blood. Lestranges, however, were willing to do business with even mudbloods, which was why their fortune had surpassed the Malfoy's at this point.

The confrontation between Abraxas and the Dark Lord had shown Rod that Abraxas was not going to retain power over the English purebloods for much longer. Once he was out of the way, the Lestranges could make a move—while also supporting the 'Dark Lord', of course.

"But that's only part of it." Rod continued, "You—who hates muggles, mudbloods, and halfbloods more than anyone—sleeping with someone who isn't a pureblood is only _one_ thing. He makes you do so many things you'd never do. Like take orders. Like give up your wand."

He gestured at her empty hands.

Bella's eyes widened. "How did you—?"

"I'm not blind, Bella." Rod said, "But there's one thing I can't see and it's why this 'Dark Lord' has such an effect on you when no one else has."

Bella sighed. "It's hard to describe, really…"

But if she could describe it, maybe, just maybe, Rod would be able to imitate it. And then he would finally be what his wife wanted. Finally win her love.

"Well, it can't be his looks." Rod grumbled, "He may look young for his age, but he also looks like a skeleton." A _nd the red eyes and white pale skin were creepy, too,_ Rod did not add.

Bella glared. But she did not have her wand to avenge the insult about her precious Dark Lord.

And so, Rod was able to chuckle to himself.

Surprisingly, though, Bella chuckled back. "No, I'm not as shallow as you, Rod."

Yes, she was savvy enough to know it was her beauty that kept her husband interested in her despite all the terrible things she had done—to him and to others. It was not his fault, though. He could hate her when she was not in the room, but as soon as he looked at her face…

"Then what is it?" Rod wondered. He really did. What attracted women to men if not looks? In this case it was not money, either, as Rod had much, much more money than the Dark Lord did.

"I don't think you'd understand…" Bella mused, running her empty wand hand through her long dark hair. "It's the way the Dark Lord stands up to people. Like Abraxas Malfoy. Like _me._ He's not afraid, because even when he has less money, less support, less pure blood, he still knows he's the most powerful wizard in the room."

Power? _That_ was what Bella was attracted to? All the years of her trying to have power over everyone else—her family members, her husband, her classmates at Hogwarts—using magic, sexuality, and anger to control them…and she now wanted a man more powerful than her?

It made no sense.

Rod shook his head of brown hair. "Ever since we met, Bella, ever since our parents told us we were promised when we were just ten years old, I've tried my best to make you happy. I've done whatever you told me to, I've faced humiliation because of your unfaithfulness, I've endured you anger…for what? For you to leave me for a man who's done nothing for you?"

"I haven't left you." Bella snorted, "We're still married, aren't we? And I intend to keep it that way. There's nothing…romantic between the Dark Lord and me, if that's what you think. I don't even think he likes me all that much, or at least in that way, he just puts up with me because he needs a powerful soldier, he doesn't even try to hide it. You don't have to worry, Rod, it's just sex—"

"But you want it to be more." Rod suspected.

"No, I don't." Bella denied, shaking her head and her long dark hair, "I really don't."

Rod did not believe her. Her other affairs were 'just sex'. Not this one. He knew Bella too well.

"You're lying." Rod accused, "You've never acted this way before, so...enamored, especially not towards someone you've only just met." _And not even towards me,_ Rod did not add.

"I knew you wouldn't understand." Bella sighed. She turned away from her husband, leaving her lean against the sink to open the bathroom door and exit through it.

Rod watched her go through the doorway, and when she was gone turned to the sink so that he could wash his hands. He was left staring at his own face in the mirror; the man that would never be good enough for Bellatrix Lestrange.

* * *

The cavern was deep beneath even the deepest vaults of Gringotts. The only light came from torches attached to the stone walls, which were decorated with carved runes in a nonhuman language.

This place reminded Bella of the underground commerce area in Paris where her father-in-law had his business. The difference was, this cavern was darker, colder, and had much lower ceilings.

Bella and the Dark Lord had to crouch uncomfortably as they walked down the tunnel. The short goblin guard, who had been placed under Imperious Curse to let them in and lead them to their destination, was the only one walking comfortably in this low-ceilinged stone hallway.

"This is where the goblins live?" Bella tested.

"Yes." Voldemort confirmed, "They were confined to this quarter after a series of rebellions, though they were never allowed to live among wizards and witches to begin with."

"You sound sympathetic." Bella noted.

"The opposite, actually." Voldemort countered, "The successful separation of creatures like goblins from Wizarding Society provides a foundation for separating wizards based on blood status."

The goblin guard turned a corner. The witch and wizard followed. In front of them was a cave dug into the wall, protected by a round metal door. It looked almost like a vault.

The goblin guard knocked on the metal door with his small, long-fingered fist. Clang. Clang. Clang. Surprisingly loud for such a small hand and such a heavy-looking door.

Then the guard, Bella and the Dark Lord waited, listening to the shuffling on the other side of the metal door, for a few long moments.

Finally, the door creaked open.

A tiny, long-nosed and pointy-eared creature peered out. She wore a dress and an apron, and her sparse brown hair was in a bun.

"Humans?" she squeaked, in shock and confusion.

Bella blinked in surprise. "There are females?"

She had never seen a female goblin before. Or considered that they had their own homes. As far as she had known, there were only the males who slept under their desks at Gringotts each night, woke up, and served the wizards and witches who used the banks all day. (That was basically what House Elves did, after all, sleep at their place of servitude.)

The Dark Lord gave Bella a look out of the corner of his red eyes.

_What, so she was supposed to know about Goblins? Why should she? They were inferior and she did not care to know anything about them._

"Get away from the door!" A voice from inside the cave called.

"Yes, dear!" The female goblin scurried out of the partially-opened doorway, disappearing into whatever room was behind her.

Inside, there was some conversation in an indiscernible language. Goblins had their own language called Gobbledegook, which sounded more like a sore throat then sentences.

Bella giggled at its strange sounds behind her wandless hand.

A new goblin appeared in the doorway. This one was male and wore a suit.

"What are you doing here, Marvolo?" he demanded.

"I have a new name now." Voldemort declared.

"That does not answer my question." The goblin replied. He looked over at the goblin guard who stood obliviously under the Imperious Curse. "You wizards think you can just do whatever you want to us. Set him free."

The Dark Lord waved his wand.

The goblin guard blinked and shook his head, shaking away the disorientation and confusion. The goblin in the doorway said something to him in Gobbledegook, which caused him to turn the corner and hurry away down the tunnel.

When the guard's footsteps were no longer audible the goblin in the doorway spoke.

"Mrs. Lestrange." He greeted, nodding at Bella.

Bella narrowed her dark eyes. _Did she know this goblin?_ They all looked alike to her.

"You don't recognize me?" the goblin scoffed bitterly, "Yes, we're all interchangeable to your kind. My name is Griphook. I've escorted you and your family to your vaults for decades."

"Oh." Bella accepted.

She and the Dark Lord were still bent forward uncomfortably in order to fit in the low-ceiling cavern system. She wondered if the rooms beyond the round metal door had higher ceilings, but she decided that they probably did not and even if they did, she did not want to go inside a goblin's house anyway.

"The reason I'm here," the Dark Lord began, "is Abraxas Malfoy. I want him removed from Gringotts board."

"So do I and many of the other goblins." Griphook agreed, "But it is just not possible. He has the most money in our vaults, much of which is invested in the bank, giving him a controlling interest. And even if that were not true, you wizards would not accept storing their money in a bank run completely by goblins. Gringotts would never have been founded and been able to exist without the Malfoy family's backing. Wizards simply do not trust goblins."

"Replace Abraxas, then." Voldemort suggested.

"The only wizard who could replace him is one with more money." Griphook reasoned, "There is no wizard in England with more money."

"But there is one in France." The Dark Lord said. He turned to Bella.

Bella smiled. "My father-in-law. Reynard Lestrange. He took his money out of Gringotts because he doesn't trust Abraxas. But if Abraxas were to lose control over the bank, I'm sure he could easily be persuaded to open an account."

"And then he would have a controlling interest." Griphook replied, "We know how to work with the Malfoys, we have worked with them for centuries. But we do not know the Lestranges…"

"My father-in-law would let you do whatever you want." Bella promised, "He has his own business to run, he doesn't have time to control a bank and I don't think he'd want to, either."

"That's speculation." Griphook dismissed. "If you want my help to remove Abraxas Malfoy, then I will need more than that."

"What do you need?" The Dark Lord asked.

"Something tangible." Griphook said, "Loyalties shift, promises break, and power is lost, but metal, ore, and gem persist in their value. I do not believe any of your promises to help nonhuman beings. Your mission of Pureblood Supremacy creates a hierarchy among wizards of the same species which leaves those of a different species even lower. But I do not care what happens between wizards so long as the Goblins remain unaffected. Giving me something tangible in exchange for my help would provide some proof that you have no intent to subjugate my species if you manage to gain power."

"Well, what tangible thing do you want?" Voldemort inquired.

"The locket of Salazar Slytherin." Griphook stated.

The Dark Lord narrowed his red eyes. "Why would you want that? It isn't goblin-made."

"Wizards have stolen so much from goblins, including the Sword of Gryffindor." Griphook reasoned, "We deserve something of equal value in return."

"Unfortunately, I don't have the locket." The Dark Lord responded.

Now it was Griphook who narrowed his eyes. "You stood in front of the secret council of magical creatures and declared yourself the Heir of Slytherin."

"Believe me, I have searched many years and in many places for that locket, which is rightfully mine, but was unable to find." Voldemort said, "However, if I had, I wouldn't give it away."

"Then there is no deal." Griphook declared.

"Wait!" Bella exclaimed, "My father has all sorts of old treasure in our bank vault. If you can manage to remove Abraxas Malfoy from the board of Gringotts, then you can take any item from the Black family vault you want."

Griphook raised his eyebrows, hmming. "Your father would allow this?"

Bella nodded. "Yes. He would. He does what I tell him to and what the Dark Lord tells him to, as well."

"Alright." Griphook accepted, nodding, "We have a deal."

Bella smiled. So did the Dark Lord. (Though, both were still in discomfort due to crouching for so long.)

* * *

It was late afternoon when Voldemort and Bella returned to the Black manor. They could hear the screams of the muggles that the students were practicing the Cruciatus Curse on in the backyard and the smell of Druella cooking dinner in the kitchen.

Voldemort knew that he should have been in the nearby field with Bella, trying again to get her to create inferi or teaching her new spells for battle, but instead they were on the third floor of the manor in the guestroom, its curtains closed and lighting dim, as usual. His reason for bringing her up here was not exactly what he knew she hoped, though.

Bella sat on the edge of the large bed eagerly awaiting what Voldemort would do.

Any other man would lose control at the sight of such a beautiful and willing woman in his bed, but there Voldemort was just standing in front of her, looking her over in contemplation.

His dislike of sex had nothing to do with its (admittedly pleasurable) physical sensations. It had to do with what it _represented._ One, a human drive—Voldemort did not want to have human drive nor let nature control him. And two, a transaction— Voldemort did not want to trade sex to get what he wanted from Bella or any woman; orders from the Dark Lord should be enough to get any person do to his bidding.

But this was different.

Voldemort was not exchanging sex for Bella's loyalty. She was giving it to him as a gift, thinking that it was what he would want (because, in her mind, what man would not want her?). This was unlike her relationships with other men, even her own husband, who she slept with when she felt like it, only for her own enjoyment, and without care for their feelings.

It was a gesture of worship.

And so, in this case, sex was tolerable (maybe even more than just tolerable). Still, it would have to be on his terms.

"If we're going to continue this…affair," Voldemort said, deciding the word 'affair' was appropriate, even though Bella was the only one of them who was married, "there will have to be some rules."

Bella raised a thin dark eyebrow. "Rules?"

"Yes, rules." Voldemort confirmed, "This past week you've acted as if you can control what happens between us; reaching out to touch me whenever you choose, like you did in the library, coming up to my room without being invited, like you did last night. You're not in control, Bella, I am."

"My lord, I wasn't trying to—" Bella attempted.

"I know you weren't." Voldemort accepted, "It's just how you behave, without even realizing it. But even so, it needs to stop."

"Alright." Bella responded, "What are the rules?"

"First," Voldemort began, "I initiate, not you. And it likely won't happen as often as you'd like. But when I do initiate you don't refuse."

Bella snorted at that. "You know I wouldn't."

"Second," Voldemort continued, "No...theatrics. I'd like you just to lie there as silently and as still as possible."

"That's boring." Bella huffed, crossing her arms.

"If you don't like it you can go back to your husband." Voldemort replied, "He may enjoy being scratched and bitten like he's in bed with a wild animal, but I don't."

Bella grimaced. "Any other rules?"

"Yes." Voldemort concluded, "One more. You need to know that this affair doesn't have any meaning beyond what it is. No special privileges—beyond the privilege of sleeping with me, of course, and that is a privilege that few have been so lucky to have."

"How few?" Bella wondered, pink slips smirking slightly.

Voldemort ignored the question, continuing "If you think I won't have the same expectations of you as the other soldiers when the war comes, then you're wrong. In fact, I may have higher expectations of you because you show more potential than any of the other students I've seen. And I won't allow that potential to be wasted by coddling you. If you fail, you will be punished—harshly—and if you succeed, that success won't be rewarded any better than the success of another soldier. What I mean by that is, though I am the Dark Lord, you are not the 'Dark Lady'."

Bella took a breath, brow furrowing.

Voldemort could see that she was considering what he had said. But it really did not matter what she thought about his rules. This was not a deal could agree to or refuse. His word was already her law.

"I never wanted that." Bella stated, shaking her head down at her lap. She then looked up into Voldemort's red eyes with her dark ones, "I've been given special privileges and coddled my whole life, beyond the superior treatment my pure blood warranted, all because I'm a pretty little woman. I don't want to be a 'lady'. Ladies stay home, gossiping with their girlfriends and tending to their children. All I want is to fight for Pureblood Supremacy and to serve you, my lord."

She had looked into his eyes because she had wanted him to look into her mind again, to see that she was telling the truth. But he did not need to this time. The truth was in the adoring expression on her pale face.

"Then serve me." Voldemort said.

Bella smiled and began to remove her dress.


	18. Chapter 18

After a weekend of rest, training resumed for the uniformed students and for Bella. It was the students' second week, and (minus a few days) Bella's third.

* * *

**Monday**

* * *

The sun rose over the tall grasses and stalks in the field. Two figures stood in clearing, the same two figures that usually did.

"I've been a natural at any kind of magic I've ever been good at." Bella recounted, "You saw how quickly I mastered Occlumency and Legilimency."

"I wouldn't say you've 'mastered' them." Voldemort sniffed, "Even with your minimal Occlumency shield, I'm still able to hear half your thoughts without even intentionally looking into your mind, and you still have only managed to look into the minds of those not using Occlumency themselves."

Bella grimaced. "Well, at least I've accomplished _something._ Creating inferi, however…"

"I agree." Voldemort agreed, "I have no more time to waste watching you fail in losing your fear of death and raising the dead. You'll have to figure that out on your own, on your own time. For now, we'll move on to another kind of magic."

"What kind, my lord?" Bella asked, eagerly. She was probably hoping for some kind of new torture curse.

"Defensive." Voldemort stated, "You're going to learn to use your magic to create a shield around your body that will protect you from attack."

Bella blinked in disbelief. "You just told me that I wasn't able to generate a proper Occlumency shield and now you want me to generate _another_ kind of shield?"

"Yes." Voldemort affirmed, matter-of-factly.

"'The best defense is a good offense'." Bella quoted, folding her arms "I've never needed defensive spells before."

"A war isn't like a fight between students at Hogwarts." Voldemort stated, "We will be outnumbered and you won't be able to avoid every spell that multiple enemies send your way."

Bella sighed in disappointed acquiescence. She could not deny the logic in the Dark Lord's statement, but still would have rather learned an offensive spell.

"Won't I need my wand back for this, my lord?" Bella requested, holding out an open palm towards him.

If she was not going to learn a new form of violence, she should at least get something she wanted. Her missing wand would do.

"No." Voldemort shook his head. "You'll need to learn to generate the shield without your wand, that way you'll be able to use your wand to attack your enemies while simultaneously shielding yourself from their spells."

Bella nodded. "So how exactly do I do it?"

"I'll attack you, and you'll have to try to use your magic, wandlessly, to deflect the attack." Voldemort explained.

"You're going to attack me?" Bella tested, body tensing.

"Three days ago it was you asking me to use the Cruciatus Curse on you." Voldemort reminded. "This won't be nearly as painful as that."

Bella gulped. Then, she took a breath and steadied herself. "I'm ready."

Voldemort raised his wand.

* * *

By midday, Bella's black dress was scuffed from the barrage of attacks. The pain itself, more a minor annoyance since Bella now knew how the Cruciatus Curse felt, was not nearly as bad as the embarrassment of being unable to generate a shield.

Voldemort shook his dark-haired head, disappointment but also confusion on his pale, furrowed forehead. "I don't understand. Something so simply should come easy to you."

He stared down at Bella, who kneeled on the packed earth and plant matter of the clearing. She was huffing for breath, looking down at the ground, too embarrassed to look her teacher in the eye after repeated failures.

"…I never had to defend myself before." Bella reasoned, voice slightly hoarse, as she continued to breathe heavily, "I was always the one who attacked first. Most were barely even able to fight back." She smiled down towards the dirt at that. _Fond memories_.

"Yet, when you feared for your life while being chased by the inferi, you were able to create fire without your wand." Voldemort recalled.

"That was different…" Bella muttered, "That was fighting back. A shield is just…standing there and taking it."

"You don't want to be weak." Voldemort discerned. That was something he could easily recognized and understand.

Now, Bella finally looked up at him from where she crouched and nodded in confirmation.

"It's not weakness to defend yourself." Voldemort tried, "Using precautions is a mark of intelligence. Intelligence is a kind of strength."

Yes, precautions were important. The Dark Lord Voldemort already had five 'precautions' against death, so far, and planned to make more once he was able to again.

Bella eyed Voldemort skeptically. _Intelligence was strength?_ Bella was no idiot, but she had known many smart people who were weak. She had bullied some of them at Hogwarts.

"When used properly." Voldemort added, as if reading her mind. No, actually reading her mind.

The wind blew, rustling the tall grasses cornstalks surrounding them. Still, it was not as loud as Bella's huffed breaths from exertion.

Trembling, Bella rose from the ground. She closed her eyes, focusing solely on making the magic she felt reverberating through her, her own magic, form a shield around her. She was really trying this time.

When Bella opened her dark eyes, she looked right at the Dark Lord. "I think I've got it now."

Immediately a blast of orange light struck her. It had not even been hindered. Bella cried out as she fell backwards, back down to the packed earth ground, hitting a pile of dried stalks with a thud.

Voldemort lowered his wand and looked down at her again, a skeptical eyebrow raised.

"…nevermind." Bella grumbled from the ground.

Voldemort almost laughed. But instead he said, "Get up and try again."

* * *

That night, Bella had washed up after a long and tiring day of training. But instead of going to sleep like the students snoring in their bunkbeds (and individual beds in the case of Rodolphus and Regulus), Bella had crept down the stairs to the second floor as soon as she knew everyone in the house was asleep.

In the dark of the hall, Bella stood in front of the guestroom's door. The floorboards creaked beneath her feet as she adjusted her weight and lifted her fist to knock.

Bella knocked, quietly, so as not to wake anyone in the manor. (Would it wake the Dark Lord if he was sleeping? Would he even be sleeping? She had never seen the Dark Lord sleep so she was not even sure if he ever did.)

Bella knocked but there was no answer. The door did not magically open on its own as it usually did.

Bella was just about to knock louder, or maybe try the doorknob, when a voice spoke through the door, quietly, so as not to wake anyone in the manor.

"Not tonight, Bella."

"Why?" Bella whispered through the door and the darkness in front of her.

"Because I said so. You remember what I told you two nights ago. I'll call you if I want you."

"But—"

"I'm won't tell you again."

Bella grimaced.

But she turned and tiptoed away from the closed door, down the dark hallway and back up the stairs to the third floor bedroom where she spent the night alone, despite her husband sleeping in the bed next to her.

* * *

**Tuesday**

* * *

It was late afternoon on Bella's second day of attempting to generate a shield wandlessly. Again, she had been unsuccessful.

Now, instead of standing in the field getting knocked over by the Dark Lord's attacks, Bella stood in the first floor bathroom with her mother, who was sitting on the covered seat of the toilet, healing both the injuries on her body and the damage to her black dress.

Druella shook her head, sparse gray hairs escaping her blonde bun, as she waved her wand over a mark on her daughter that looked halfway between a burn and a gash. Slowly, the mark began to disappear, but not without Bella wincing.

"What in Merlin's name is he teaching you out there?" Druella wondered, wrinkled forehead furrowed in concern.

"You wouldn't understand, mother." Bella dismissed, rolling her dark eyes. The truth was, she just did not want to explain her failure. She would rather her mother believe her injuries were a successful part of her training.

A piece of black fabric fell from her dress and landed on the black tile floor. Druella turned her wand towards it and it floated back upwards, reattaching to Bella's dress.

"If training is this dangerous, imagine what a real battle would be like." Druella noted, solemnly, "I really think you should leave the fighting to the men."

Bella snorted. "Those boys?" Her dark eyes glanced at the bathroom window, even though it was obscured by a black curtain.

Beyond its curtain and glass, the students shouted out 'crucio' and the muggle prisoners screamed in pain—minor pain. Bella knew she could do better.

"Then the Dark Lord should be training them himself, not you." Druella muttered, "I should have realized what he _really_ wanted when he came here asking to train a young woman. Your father was suspicious, but I didn't think Tom was like that. As far as I knew, he never courted anyone at Hogwarts."

At that Bella laughed. "It's 1977, nobody says 'courted' anymore."

"Well, it's what we said back then…not that many were actually involved in courting, since most of us Slytherins had arranged marriages, so there was no need." Druella remembered. "In fact, boys and girls hardly spent any unsupervised time together, and if they did, they had to have been already promised. If I had behaved like you behaved in Hogwarts, and how you continue to behave now, I would've been disowned."

Bella groaned. _Another lecture._

Without even replying, Bella started to walk away from her mother and her mother's wand, healing not yet completed and dress still scuffed and slightly torn.

"Bella, where are you going?" Druella called after her, "You're not fully healed yet!"

"Outside." Bella replied, as she walked through the open bathroom doorway, without looking back at her mother, "I've decided to help the boys learn the Cruciatus Curse."

* * *

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

The sound of screaming muggles had echoed throughout the backyard of the Black Manor all that morning. There was also the sound of Sirius banging on the door of the wooden shed he was locked inside of again, but that was muffled by the cries of the muggles and the incantations of the uniformed students.

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

It was Amycus and Alecto casting the Unforgivable Curses. They aimed their wands at a skinny and sickly muggle man and woman who writhed in pain on the grass while the Carrow siblings laughed.

Mordred, Alvin, and Evan ventured the closest, watching in awe at the pain Amycus and Alecto were causing. Even Rabastan gazed in excitement where he stood next to his older brother, a few feet away. Rodolphus watched in disgust.

Regulus was not watching at all. He stood by the shed where his older brother was trapped. His dark eyes were squinted shut and he winced each time one of the Carrows shouted the 'crucio'.

Rod rolled his green eyes at scared little Regulus. He then looked over at Ingvar Karkaroff, who was watching the torture from afar, by the fountain, in mild approval, his son, Igor, standing tensely beside him instead of participating, a hint of discomfort on his face.

"Crucio!"

"Crucio!"

The shouts and laughter of the Carrow siblings rang out. Bellatrixes in training.

What Rod was seeing did not bother him because he had seen it many times before. He had seen the magical creatures his father's business sold harmed, and he had seen Bella torture muggles.

His disgust was at the way the muggles contorted as they felt the pain, bony limbs in unnatural positions, eyes bulging, mouths wide open with saliva spraying out. Disgusting. How anyone could enjoy witnessing this, Rod did not understand.

There were three other muggles, as sickly and skinny as the two screaming in pain, who were lucky enough to be stunned on the grassy lawn a few feet away from where Amycus and Alecto practiced the Cruciatus Curse. Stunned but not unconscious. Their wide, unblinking eyes, saw the pain of their fellow muggles and the fate they would soon experience for themselves.

"You know, when our father told us to participate in this Dark Arts training, I didn't think this is how it would be…" Rabastan said.

"Yes, this isn't very productive." Rod agreed.

"No, I mean I didn't think it'd be this much fun." Bas smiled, "I think I'm going to go try the curse myself."

He started over to where the other gray-uniformed students had circled around the muggles like wolves around prey. He pushed past Mordred and Alvin, into the circle, drawing his wand and almost tripping over the closest muggle on the ground.

Rod remained where he stood, shaking his head.

They would not achieve Pureblood Supremacy by capturing random muggles from a festival and torturing them in his inlaws' backyard. What was Lord Voldemort thinking? Oh right. He was too busy sleeping with another man's wife to come up with a viable plan.

The back door of the manor swung open and there was the wife. Bella scurried down the hill towards the area below where the students were practicing between the fountain and the shed.

Rod could see Bella's dark eyes widen in excitement when she noticed what the students in gray uniforms were doing. She hurried towards the group, a smile growing on her face, larger with each muggle scream.

From where he stood by the fountain, Karkaroff noticed her arrival. "We are training here. You need to leave."

Bella stopped and scoffed. "This is my family's property, foreigner. I'll go wherever I please."

 _Here we go again…_ Rod thought.

The circle students ceased their torture of the muggles in order to watch the impending argument. On the grass in the center of the circle, the two muggles had meanwhile passed out from the pain.

Bella passed the circle and the muggles, approaching the three conscious ones paralyzed a few feet away. She prodded one with the toe of her boot.

"These three haven't been punished yet." She stated, "Why not?"

The students turned towards her. So did Karkaroff who crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes.

"We tried." Evan informed her, "We just…couldn't. Only Amycus and Alecto could."

Bella snorted. "It seems your teacher isn't doing a very good job, then."

"You think you can teach them better than I can?" Karkaroff tested, starting towards her, away from the fountain where his son still stood.

"I know I can." Bella declared, flipping her long black hair.

Bella loved to pick fights with whoever would engage for whatever reason she could use an excuse. But she usually only did so when she was already angry about something else.

So what was she angry about this time? Did it have something to do with how her dress was somewhat damaged?

Rod jogged to stand between her and Karkaroff. "Bella, don't do this again."

Bella just rolled her eyes at him. She then spun away from him, standing over the three stupefied muggles but facing the uniformed students.

Amycus and Alecto lowered their wands where they stood beside the two unconscious muggles. Mordred, Alvin, Evan, and Rabastan stepped towards Bella. So did Igor, despite his father's look of disapproval.

Regulus watched from far away, next to the wooden shed. The door had stopped banging, meaning that Sirius had probably given up trying to get out and was most likely watching the yard through a crack in the boards.

"In order to successfully cast a Cruciatus Curse, you need to _want_ to cause pain." Bella explained. "Not just want to cast the spell because you don't want to fail. Magic is a manifestation of what you desire, it does whatever you want it to."

"No." Karkaroff countered, "Practice is the only way to improve."

"Practice is the reason they can't do it." Bella countered, "You turn it into a chore, taking all the emotion—all the fun—out of it. Let them enjoy it."

The Carrow siblings nodded in agreement.

Bella smiled. She then looked over at where Regulus was standing, tensely, by the wooden shed.

"Reggie!" she called, "Come try it!"

Regulus shook his dark-haired head, immediately looking down at his shoes, unable to make eye-contact with his older cousin.

Bella grimaced. She looked back at Rod again. "What about you, dear husband?"

"Alright…" Rod groaned.

He trudged over his wife Bella. He lifted his wand, aiming it down at the three paralyzed muggles on the grass.

"Crucio." He said.

A weak burst of red light fizzled from his wand. It did not even reach the nearest muggle before disappearing.

Bella snickered. So did the Carrows, Evan, Mordred and Alvin.

"You have to mean it." Bella reminded, empty wand hand on her hip. _Where was her wand?_

"But I _don't_ mean it." Rod snorted, "Why should I? The purpose of this training is to create an army that'll reestablish Pureblood Supremacy in the Wizarding World. We're not going to do that by torturing random muggles for fun. We're wasting our time."

"Oh, Roddy…" Bella sighed, "Give me that." She snatched Rod's wand right out of his hand before he could react. "This is how you do a Cruciatus Curse. Crucio!"

Red light blasted from the stolen wand. It struck the closest of the three paralyzed muggles, a skinny tattooed man. His body remained motionless but his eyes widened and reddened in pain.

Unsatisfied with the reaction, Bella stopped. But only to unstupefy the muggle man so that he was able to cry out and convulse when she crucioed him again.

Rod clutched his forehead in exasperation as Bella cackled at the muggle's scream.

He quickly glanced over at the shed. Regulus had turned his head away, unable to watch.

The rest of the students, though, watched intently as the muggle man shrieked in pain, and Bella laughed in pleasure.

After a few moments, Bella stopped laughing, lowered her wand and looked at the students surrounding her again. The muggle gasped for breath at her feet.

"This is what muggles deserve!" Bella declared, gesturing at the muggle on the ground, wheezing in pain and staring up at her pleadingly. "The natural order is our kind above theirs. It is our duty to put muggles in their place and we should take pleasure in it. We're not just 'torturing muggles for fun', we're keeping them in line."

She looked directly at her husband. Rod nodded, accepting her reasoning even though he thought it was superfluous himself.

Then, Bella looked at the students in gray uniforms, beckoning them towards her

"Your turn, boys." she invited, quickly adding, "Not you two." When Amycus and Alecto were the first to come forward.

The brother and sister frowned at Bella then glanced at each other in disappointment. But they relented and stepped backwards.

This allowed Alvin and Mordred to step forward. They aimed their wands at the tattooed muggle man.

"Crucio!" they shouted in unison.

Red light burst forth from both their wands. The two beams of light struck the muggle, who screamed again—though not nearly as loudly as he had when Bella had been the one to cast the curse, and without convulsing.

"Good." Bella smiled, anyway. "He's weak and you're strong. Prove it."

"Crucio!" Alvin and Mordred shouted again.

And again red light burst from their wands, striking the muggle. This time he convulsed and his screamed pierced the late morning air.

Bella's smile widened into a grin. She turned triumphantly to Karkaroff who scowled.

"Let me try." Rabastan trod forward, eagerly. He pushed Mordred and Alvin out of the way so that he could raise his wand and shout, "Crucio!"

A surprisingly strong blast of red light sprung from his wand. However, it did not hit the tattooed muggle and instead hit the muggle woman beside him, who was stunned and so unable to scream.

Bella chuckled, "Great job, Bas." She was only being half sarcastic.

Bas smiled. Rod rolled his eyes. _Now his little brother probably thought he had a chance with Bella again…_

Evan approached next. He flipped his shaggy gold hair out of his eyes and waved his wand. "Crucio!"

The tattooed muggle screamed.

"Again." Bella urged.

"Crucio!" Evan shouted louder.

The muggle screamed louder.

Bella was cackling again. She turned to Karkaroff. "See, I told you I was a better teacher."

"They did not succeed because of your teaching." Karkaroff dismissed, arms still folded, "They succeeded because they wanted to impress an attractive female."

Bella just shrugged smugly.

She turned to the shed again. "Reggie! Don't be a baby! Come here and try!"

Regulus shook his head again.

"Leave him alone." Rod tried.

But Evan, Alvin and Mordred were already echoing Bella's request for Regulus to join them over by the captured muggles. And Regulus was already relenting, trudging away from the shed where his brother watched from inside.

Bella hugged Regulus as soon as he reached the group. His face turned pink but his teenage friends did not laugh at him, they eyed him jealously. (And so did Rod, a little, it had been a while since his own wife had been affectionate towards him).

"You can do it, I know you can." Bella encouraged, releasing Regulus and gesturing at the tattooed muggle on the ground.

"I don't think I can." Regulus disagreed, "I know he's a muggle, but he hasn't done anything to me. Why do I have to hurt him?"

"Because you're better than him." Bella reasoned.

"Please…" the muggle man rasped, gazing up at Regulus pleadingly from the grass, "…help me…"

Regulus' dark eyes widened. He backed away. "I can't do this…"

"Yes you can." Bella insisted, "Get angry. Think of how he and the other muggles defiled Stonehenge."

Regulus shook his head. "They've been punished enough for that already."

"Think of all the other people who have wronged you, then." Bella redirected, "All the times you've been hurt. Think of that." She studied Regulus' face for a reaction. "Are you thinking of it?"

Regulus nodded. There were tiny tears forming in the corners of his eyes.

A bad memory, Rod guessed, though he had no idea what bad thing could have happened to favorite pureblood son Regulus Black.

"Good." Bella smiled. "Use that pain, that emotion. Use it to cast the Cruciatus Curse."

"Alright." Regulus took a breath and raised his wand. "Crucio!"

A red jet of light blasted from his wand and struck the muggle. The tattooed muggle man screamed, at first, but then was suddenly silent. He had passed out from the pain.

The uniformed students gasped. Even Karkaroff's mouth opened in surprise.

Bella grinned. "Great job, Reggie! I knew you could do it!"

She grabbed her younger cousin into another hug. He was too shocked at himself to react, dark eyes wide, tears falling from them, he stood motionless in Bella's embrace.

The other students were staring jealously again, though they did clap at Regulus' accomplishments…except for Rod, who clenched his fists, wand hand empty since Bella had taken his wand, and Igor who lifted his hands to clap from where he stood by the fountain…but then lowered them when his father glared at him.

"Enough." Karkaroff barked, "Enough distractions. It is time to resume the lesson. Line up!"

The uniformed students jolted. Immediately, they scattered from the circle that had surrounded where Bella stood and the now unconscious muggle lay. They lined up in two groups in front of Karkaroff, the black-uniformed Rodolphus and Regulus at the ends of their respective lines.

Bella rolled her dark eyes as she watched this.

"Can I have my wand back, Bella?" Rod requested from the edge of his group's line.

"Come take it from me." Bella baited, waving the wand in the air, not moving from where she stood beside the three fallen muggles—two paralyzed, one unconscious—on the grassy lawn.

Rod grimaced. He knew he could not get out of line. "Just give it here."

He held open his hand. His wand stayed tightly gripped in smirking Bella's.

But then, suddenly, it jolted from her fingers and soared through the air back towards Rod. He fumbled, but caught it.

It was Karkarkoff who had waved his own wand to do it. He shook his gray-goateed head in disapproval. "What is wrong with you? You cannot even control your wife. In my country a man would punish his woman for such disrespect."

Bella snorted in offense. Rod bowed his head in shame.

"What are you waiting for?" Karkaroff demanded, "Punish her."

Rod blinked in shock. So did the other uniformed students standing in line. Punish _Bella?!_ No, that would never happen.

Rod shook his head. "This isn't your country—"

"But you are my student and you will do as I command." Karkaroff insisted, "Punish her."

At that, Rod could not help but chuckle. "You may be my teacher, but Bellatrix is my wife. And honestly, as bad as it sounds, I'm far more afraid of her than I am of you."

Some other students in line laughed. Probably the Mulciber, Avery, and Rosier boys. But whether they were laughing at the insult to Karkaroff or at Rodolphus' fear of his own wife, Rod could not tell.

Karkaroff scowled.

Bella grinned. "It's alright, Rod. Do as he says. Punish me."

Rod narrowed his green eyes in suspicion. Bella was asking him to punish her? It was a trick. It had to be.

"Come on," Bella insisted, showing her empty hands, "I don't have my wand. I won't be able to resist. Don't be afraid."

Rod took a breath, still eying his wife warily. This was another one of her sick games. He knew it.

Everyone in the line of students was watching Rod to see what he would do. So was Karkaroff. So was Bella, smiling at him eagerly.

"Do it." Karkaroff urged.

"Do it." Bella echoed.

Rod raised his wand. Bella's grin grew wider, wilder.

Rod tried to imagine the sight of her in pain. He could not. He had never seen her in pain before, only causing it. But he had seen others in pain, muggles mostly, screaming and writing on the ground. Bella was not a muggle. And the idea of treating her the way they treated muggles…

"I can't." Rod sighed, and lowered his wand.

"Pathetic." Bella spat, grin replaced by a frown.

"For once, I agree with her." Karkaroff agreed.

Rod grimaced down at his shoes on the grass.

He was not embarrassed. Bella had embarrassed him so much throughout their relationship that he was inoculated to embarrassment.

No. Rod was not embarrassed.

He was angry.

* * *

**Wednesday**

* * *

Four figures stood in the overgrown field's clearing just after the sun had risen that morning. The two usuals, and two extras.

Bella was surprised. She raised a thin, dark eyebrow. "Why are _they_ here?"

Alecto and Amycus Carrow grinned.

"I thought that, perhaps, my spells were just so powerful that whatever shield you creating could not block them." Voldemort explained, "With these two, I don't think that same problem would occur."

Alecto and Amycus Carrow frowned.

"My lord, you want them to attack me?" Bella's dark eyes widened. She had seen that that Carrow Siblings were the only two students with any talent for torture. Sure, she was better than them…but a couple crucios from the brother and sister would still hurt.

"Yes." Voldemort confirmed, "But you shouldn't be worried. All you must do is generate shield to protect yourself."

"Alright…ack!" Bella had just agreed when an orange light blasted her body with pain and she cried out.

The Carrow siblings were snickering. Alecto's wand was raised.

"That was for splinching me at Stonehenge." Alecto declared, twirling her wand in her chubby hand.

"I wasn't ready yet." Bella glared. She then closed her eyes, focusing her magic into creating a shield around her. When she was sure she felt it there, she opened her eyes. " _Now,_ I'm ready."

This time both Carrows pointed their wands at Bella.

* * *

At midday, Amycus and Alecto Carrow were allowed to leave the field and return to the Black Manor to eat lunch. Bellatrix Lestrange was not.

Bella's stomach growled beneath her black dress, far less damaged that afternoon as her shield had managed to stop most—but not all—of the Carrow siblings' attacks. With her empty wand hand she clutched it.

"When do I get a break, my lord?" Bella asked, attempting to sound polite but ending up sounding annoyed, "I'm hungry and tired."

"You'll be allowed to eat and rest when you master the wandless shield spell." Voldemort answered.

"Deprivation again?" Bella whined, "Just because you never seem to eat or sleep doesn't mean I can do the same." Now she was not even trying to hide how annoyed she was.

"If you complained less and tried harder you could be eating right now." Voldemort replied.

Bella sighed. "So are we waiting for those pureblood trash kids to return or are _you_ going to attack me now?"

The Carrows were 'pureblood trash' because although they were pureblooded, they were also poor—at least compared to the Black, Lestrange, and Malfoy families. They had no acres of land and large manor house.

"Why don't you take this time to practice your Occlumency, Bella." Voldemort suggested, "Right now I can see that you're hungry enough that you're willing to eat 'whatever burned attempt at cooking' your mother made this afternoon, as you call it."

Bella grimaced in embarrassment. Her stomach growled again.

The hunger and the tiredness from training all morning had weakened her Occlumency shield, perhaps taken it down entirely. She could not tell.

Bella nodded. She closed her eyes, focusing her mind to regenerate the Occlumency shield.

* * *

Everyone else had gone inside for dinner as the sun set behind the horizon of trees fencing in the backyard of the Black Manor. But Rodolphus remained on the grass, beside the waterless fountain, and in front of the muggle lying on the ground in front of him.

The muggle was a woman.

The muggle woman screamed in pain as Rod practiced the Cruciatus Curse on her. Tears fell from her red eyes, down her pale and sunken cheeks, skinny like the rest of her sickly body.

"Why are you doing this?!" She sobbed.

She was still able to talk. He was not doing enough. Wordlessly, Rod tried the Cruciatus Curse again. Again, the woman screamed.

"Why? Why?" she choked between screams. "Why?"

But there was no 'why'. There was no logical reason for this, Rod knew.

Torturing muggles would not lead to Pureblood Supremacy in the Wizarding World. Torturing muggles would not stop other muggles from encroaching on to sacred wizarding historical sites like Stonehenge. Torturing muggles would not even make Rod happy the way it made Bella happy.

But Rod was just so angry that he had to do this. He had to do this to this muggle woman, this dark haired and dark eyed muggle woman who probably would have been beautiful if she was not so skinny and sickly (and not a muggle), because he could not do it to the person who had made him so angry.

Bella.

Rod had not noticed his wife creep up behind him. The soft grass and the screaming muggle had muffled her footsteps.

How long had she stood there watching him? With that satisfied, sick grin on her beautiful face…

"Roddy."

Rod jolted. Immediately the red jet of light fizzled. He almost dropped his wand.

The muggle woman continued to scream though, from the residual pain. However, she did stop writing in the dirt and grass.

"Why stop?" Bella asked, "You were doing so well, Rod."

Rod did not turn around to look at her and did not speak to her.

"Are you ignoring me again?" Bella chided.

Suddenly, she was standing right behind him. So close that he could feel her warm breath on his neck. He had always craved being close to her before, but now…now, it made him tense and shiver in disgust, rather than arousal.

"Get away from me, Bella." Rod warned.

"Or what?" Bella laughed, "You'll do to me what you're doing to this muggle?"

The muggle woman had finally stopped screaming. With eyes dark like Bella's, whites red from crying, she gazed up at the Lestranges and the orange sunset behind them in confusion and horror from the ground.

"I just might." Rod threatened, finally spinning around to face his wife, pointing his wand at her and glaring with green eyes.

It was an empty threat and they both knew it. Rod lowered his wand to his side, limply.

Bella sniffed, "How did you get so good at this so quickly? You couldn't even produce a Cruciatus Curse yesterday."

"I just did what you told us to do." Rod muttered, "I thought of how I've been wronged. I thought of _who_ had wronged me…and then I released that emotion through the curse."

"It's nice to know you're thinking of me." Bella smiled.

"I always think of you." Rod said, "I just wish I could stop."

He pushed passed Bella, starting up the hill to the Black Manor and leaving a wandless Bella with the tortured muggle on the ground.

* * *

**Thursday**

* * *

Bella blinked in surprise. There was her wand. It was right in front of her. After so many days of missing it, the Dark Lord was just holding it out to her.

They were standing in the overgrown field again, just like they did every day. The sunrise this morning was hidden behind gray clouds.

"You're giving me my wand back?" Bella checked. She did not want to make the mistake of reaching out and trying to grab it again, only to have it snatched away and be chastised for trying to take it.

"Yes." The Dark Lord confirmed as he continued to hold out her wand to her, waiting for her to take it, "Now that you've learned to shield yourself from attack, you must learn how to counterattack while shielding yourself."

"You mean I have to generate the shield and cast spells at the same time?" Bella asked, again surprised. She had never been much of a multitasker.

"You'll have to split the focus of your magic." The Dark Lord clarified, "The more you allocate to your shield, the weaker your spells will be; but the more you allocate to your spells, the weaker your shield will be. So you'll have to find the most useful balance depending upon what the situation requires."

Bella had still not taken the wand from his outstretched hand. She down at the wand in his pale, skinny fingers again, then looked up at his pale face and red eyes.

"If I try to learn this by fighting you, my lord, I'll fail like I did before." Bella predicted.

"You're right." The Dark Lord confirmed, "That's why I won't be the one to attack you."

At that moment, Rod stepped out from between the cornstalks and tall grasses.

Dramatic. So he had just been hiding there the whole time, waiting for the right moment? It made Bella smile. She liked drama.

"The Dark Lord asked me for help with your training today." Rod said.

 _When?_ Bella wondered. And how had that conversation gone? Bella looked into Rod's green eyes and into his mind. She was curious to see his memory…

* * *

It was dark and before dawn. Rod was leading the five muggle prisoners out of the cellar with an Imperious Curse, past the side of the Black Manor towards the back lawn.

Because the sky was cloudy and the sun had not yet risen, Rod did not see the tall, skinny figure in a black robe waiting for him until he had almost walked into him. He stopped, sudden and startled.

Red eyes stared down at him.

Rod looked away, down at the grass beside him. The muggles prisoners came to a stop, still in a trance from the Imperious Curse.

"What do you want?" Rod muttered, then adding with unmasked sarcasm and bitterness "Oh sorry, I mean, what do you want, 'my lord'?"

"I want to ask you a favor." The Dark Lord said.

"Why do you need to ask?" Rod wondered, rolling his green eyes at him, "You didn't ask when you took my wife."

"If you're under the impression that—" The Dark Lord began, but was interrupted.

"I know she started it with you." Rod stated, "But you're the only person with the power to refuse her. And you didn't. Or are you not so powerful after all, and fell under the same spell as every other man she meets?"

The Dark Lord's red eyes narrowed in offense…and some consideration, too. Was he contemplating that Rod's assertion may have been correct? That he was unable to resist Bella, just like all the other men?

"I can refuse her." The Dark Lord shrugged, "I can even order her to be faithful to you, and she would do it. But I won't. Why should I? If you can't satisfy your own wife, it's not my job to fix that for you. Though, at the moment, I am fixing that for her."

Rod glared. He raised his wand, pointing at the Dark Lord. "You want to ask me a favor and then you insult me?"

"You were correct, I don't have to ask." The Dark Lord smirked, "You're going to help me with your wife's training today."

* * *

Bella snickered to herself. Rod raised a brown eyebrow in confusion, not knowing that Bella had looked into his mind and seen the conversation between him and the Dark Lord.

"So you're going to attack me?" Bella laughed. She did not believe her husband would be able to. He was angry at her again, but he had never gotten angry enough to hurt her.

"For your training, yes." Rod nodded, a bit nervously, "And you're going to fight back, too."

"If she's able." The Dark Lord added. "She most likely won't be, at first. So, you might hurt your wife."

Rod grimaced in discomfort, but raised his wand, anyway. Bella raised her wand, as well, reacclimating herself to the feel of it in her hands after its days missing.

"Don't forget to generate a shield, Bella." The Dark Lord reminded.

Bella nodded at him. She then focused her magic around her body in a shield.

"What are you waiting for, Rod?" she asked after a few moments, wand still raised and ready for her counterattack.

Rod narrowed his green eyes and furrowed his brow. "For you to make a shield."

Bella laughed in realization. Rod did not know that the shield was invisible. "I did. You can attack me now."

"…alright." Rod gulped.

He pointed his wand towards Bella, hesitated, then sent a tentative hex in her direction. He blinked, taken aback, when it rebounded, almost striking him before he jumped out of the way at the last second.

"You can do better." Bella urged, with a laugh.

Rod could. And so he did. A more powerful version of the same hex blasted in Bella's direction but again, it bounced off her shield.

"Come on, Rod." Bella groaned, getting disappointed.

"You're supposed to be fighting back." The Dark Lord reminded her, "When he attacks again, attack at the same time."

Bella glanced over at the Dark Lord to nod. "Alright, my lord."

Rod could have attacked while she was not looking at him. He really should have, too. He hated it when Bella called the other man 'my lord'.

But instead, Rod was polite and waited until his wife faced him again. They both raised their wands at the same time and shot a hex at each other.

Immediately, Rod felt himself thrown backwards into a row of tallgrass and cornstalks. He shouted, eyes widening in alarm to see that Bella had also been thrown backwards, too, into the dirt and trampled vegetation of the clearing.

Her shield had failed when she cast a spell at the same time.

"Get up." The Dark Lord ordered, "Both of you."

Chest aching from where he had been hit, Rod groaned as he rose to his feet. He watched Bella stand up with less effort needed. His spell has not been as painful or as powerful as hers.

"Again." The Dark Lord ordered.

And so, Mr. and Mrs. Lestrange raised their wands at each other again.

* * *

Watching Bellatrix and Rodolphus was interesting, Voldemort thought. The husband and wife fought—or rather, Bella tried to find the balance between shielding herself and casting spells, while Rodolphus tried to find the balance between trying not to hurt Bella with his spells and trying to hurt her.

Rodolphus was conflicted. Looking into his mind, Voldemort could see that Rodolphus was getting increasingly angry at her for her behavior. The treatment he had once grudgingly accepted for years out of both love for and fear of her, he now resented.

But why the sudden change?

Voldemort saw the reason in Rodolphus' mind. He, the Dark Lord Voldemort, was the reason.

Rodolphus was willing to accept Bella's mistreatment of him as long as no other man received better treatment from her. But now Bella was being respectful and obedient towards Voldemort, Rodolphus was angry, since as Bella's husband, he should have been the man she was respectful and obedient towards.

Rodolphus being angry that Bella refused to respect him Voldemort could understand. Lack of respect was infuriating.

However, what Voldemort could not understand is why Rodolphus actually 'loved' Bella, or at least believed he did.

Rodolphus and Bella did not marry for love, they were promised by their parents, and pureblood marriages were arranged to keep bloodlines pure and money in the old pureblood families. Therefore, they had no reason to involve love in their marriage, and in fact Bella did not.

But Rodolphus did. He had convinced himself that he was in love with his wife, despite how she treated him. Maybe out of obligation, since they were married. Or maybe just because Bella was pretty and he was attracted to her.

Either way, it was stupid. And weak.

Rodolphus had allowed Bella to hurt and humiliate him for years, all for the sake of 'love', and received nothing he wanted in return. Yes, stupid and weak. That was what Rodolphus was.

…so why was Bella bothering to help him up off of the ground?

Voldemort's red eyes blinked in surprise.

Bella and Rodolphus had once again knocked each other down with their hexes. But this time, Rodolphus had not struggled to his feet on his own. He continued to lie on the cornstalks he had flattened under his fall, groaning in pain.

This had caused Bella to leap up from the dirt where she had fallen and rush to her husbands' aid.

"Rod, are you alright?!" she gasped.

"I'm…I'm fine." Rod wheezed from the ground, "I just need a break. And maybe a shield of my own, too."

"I can teach you how to generate one." Bella volunteered.

She extended her empty hand down towards Rod. He took it and let Bella pull him up.

Now standing face to face, their hands were still joined. Neither let go.

So much for Rodolphus' anger, then. One kind gesture from his wife and he immediately forgave her again for all the pain she had caused him. Stupid and weak.

Voldemort shook his head to himself as he watched the husband and wife. He would never understand their relationship and was glad he did not.

Bella could have whatever relationship with her husband she wanted, Voldemort did not care—as long as it did not interfere with her training or her abilities as a soldier. But the way that Bella was talking to Rodolphus and holding his hands right now, instead of getting back into position to continue practice, well, it was starting to look like interference...

* * *

**Friday**

* * *

The sun was hidden by gray clouds the idled over the overgrown cornfield. It was afternoon and after lunch, and so Rod and Bella had returned to the clearing.

…without the Dark Lord.

Rod scratched at a burn mark his black uniform, slight damaged by that morning's training. Bella's black dress was untouched today. Her shield had completely defended her and she had still been able to cast the spells that had caused the burn on Rod's uniform.

"I don't think it'll be as hard for you to generate shield as it was for me." Bella reasoned, "You've always been better at healing and defensive spells than me."

"So how do I do it?" Rod asked, raising his wand.

"You have to do it without your wand." Bella informed, "That way, you can still use your wand to attack."

"Alright." Rod nodded, lowering his wand.

"Just focus your magic around your body to make a shield." Bella instructed, "Closing your eyes helps."

Rod closed his green eyes and tensed his body. Focus…focus…focus—

"Bella."

Rod's eyes popped open at the sound of his wife's name. He recognized the voice that had spoken; high for a grown man and chilling for a human being.

The Dark Lord.

What was he doing here?

The black-robed man stepped into the clearing. Bella and Rod both turned to face him in surprise.

"Bella, you didn't tell me you were planning to train with your husband alone." The Dark Lord said. His tone was accusatory.

"I'm sorry, my lord, I didn't think you would mind." Bella replied, "You said the lesson was over, since I mastered creating and shield and casting spells at the same time."

"Yes, that lesson is over but that doesn't mean I didn't have another lesson planned for the rest of day." The Dark Lord responded, "Or a reward for your success."

"A reward?" Bella's thin eyebrows rose in interest. There was a smile growing on her red lips.

Rod glared.

"Yes, a reward." The Dark Lord confirmed, "Come with me."

Bella immediately hurried to his side and the two started out of the clearing. Rod just watched, green eyes wide and pleading for Bella to stop and stay with him, (or even just to tell him she was sorry and say goodbye).

She did not even look back.

Rod was left alone in the clearing under the gray sky. He clenched his fists, wand hand tightening around his wand. He was angry.


	19. Animagus

* * *

**Friday**

* * *

Sirius Black had to escape.

He had been trapped at the Black Manor for about two weeks now, first forced to participate in dark arts training and then forced into the backyard shed when he had refused. He had to get out of here.

It was Friday evening. While the other students were in the diningroom, Sirius was in the dimly-lit library, searching through the bookshelves that lined the walls not for a book but for something else.

Floo powder.

If Sirius could just find the floo powder, he could use the fireplace to leave. Where, Sirius did not care. Maybe James Potter's house in Godric's Hollow? It did not matter. He just had to escape.

Sirius was pulling yet another book off of one of the ceiling-length shelves to see if the powder was hidden behind it when he heard the door to the library creak open behind him. Sirius froze, tensing.

"Sirius? What are you doing in here?"

It was his Aunt Druella's voice.

Sirius sighed in relief. Thank Merlin it was not his crazy cousin Bellatrix. Or that creepy old man who called himself the 'Dark Lord'.

Sirius put book he had taken out back onto the shelf and turning around to face his aunt. "Um, I'm just looking for some floo powder, I left something at home and I want to go get it."

"I was told to hide the floo powder." Aunt Druella said from the now opened doorway, "If any of you children need anything, I can send a letter or go get it for you myself. What did you leave at home? I can write to your mother Walburga and she'll have your House Elf bring it."

"It's nothing, I just, uh, wanted a different pair of shoes." Sirius lied, quickly, "These are getting small on me." He tapped his feet on the hardwood floor in demonstration.

"I'll write to your mother." Aunt Druella smiled, "Come have some dinner."

And so Sirius was forced to follow his aunt out of the library, back down the hall, and into the diningroom.

* * *

**Saturday**

* * *

It was Saturday morning. While the other students slept on one of their two days off from intense dark arts training, Sirius came downstairs from the third floor in his pajamas, Gryffindor red in rebellion against his family.

The only one up this early was his Uncle Cygnus, who was reading the Daily Prophet in the sittingroom and did not acknowledge Sirius at first, even though he looked up over the top of the paper to see whose footsteps he had heard on the stairs and coming down the hall, and had seen Sirius standing in the doorway of the sittingroom.

Sirius knew the entire Black Family had resented him ever since he had been sorted into Gryffindor, but Uncle Cygnus had resented him since he was born, and even resented the favorite son, Regulus. The reason for that, of course, was because Cygnus had three daughters and zero sons to pass on his family name, and his sister Walburga and cousin Orion had gotten the glory of producing the next generation of Blacks instead.

"Excuse me, Uncle Cygnus?" Sirius tried his best to sound polite and respectful.

Uncle Cygnus looked up from behind the top of the newspaper again. "What is it?"

"How do you make a portkey?" Sirius asked.

Uncle Cygnus narrowed his dark eyes. "You have to get a portkey approved by the Portkey Office at the Department of Magical Transportation. Why do you ask?"

"Just wondering." Sirius shrugged.

"My wife told me you tried to use the Floo Network yesterday." Cygnus recalled, "Are you trying to leave?"

"No, of course not, why would I?" Sirius attempted.

"From what I've heard you've been refusing to participate in the dark arts training, and as a result, got locked in the shed." Cygnus responded, "Is that why you want to go home?"

"I dunno, kind of," Sirius admitted, (though playing it off as if he was not as desperate to escape as he actually as and as if he actually intended to return to Grimmauld Place, which he actually did not.) "I just don't think that there's a point of all this. There won't really be a war, will there?"

"I hope so." Cygnus declared, setting down the newspaper in his lap, "Purebloods need to take back the Wizarding World. You should be proud to fight for that cause, though we all know by now you're not." He smiled a little at this.

Sirius suspected that Uncle Cygnus was glad that at least one of the sons Walburga had had was a disappointment to the family, especially since Cygnus' daughter Andromeda had been disowned.

"Then you should let me leave." Sirius reasoned.

"I'm not the one stopping you." Cygnus allowed, gesturing at the doorway Sirius stood in, "You'll have to write to your mother and ask her permission."

Sirius slumped where he stood, grimacing. Walburga had been the one to force him to attend this training in the first place, she would never let him leave.

Sighing in defeat, Sirius left the doorway.

* * *

**Sunday**

* * *

That was it.

If Sirius could not use the Floo Network and could not make a portkey, he would just have to walk out of and away from the Black Manor. Getting lost in the countryside was better than being here.

It was Sunday night. Sirius waited until all the other students were asleep in their bunkbeds before sneaking out of his own. He exited the makeshift dormitory, then passed by Bellatrix's room, where Regulus and Rodolphus were also staying.

Sirius should have just kept going, but he wanted to check on his little brother Regulus.

And so, as quietly as he could, Sirius pushed open the door to the other bedroom, just ajar. Squinting through the darkness, Sirius could see two figures lying in two beds…but also one empty bed between the two occupied ones.

Though Sirius could not see who was who, it was almost midnight and so it was probably Bellatrix out of bed at this hour.

 _Probably off with some man,_ Sirius figured. He knew his cousin was a whore as well as sadistic madwoman, (even though Regulus still refused to see the obvious).

Sirius closed the door again and continued down the dark third floor hallway.

The spiraling staircase was loud. Sirius tiptoed down, one stair at a time. If only he had his wand, he would have been able to use a silencing charm, but Professor Karkaroff still had it. So, Sirius' next stop was the guesthouse in the backyard.

* * *

The night was dark because the crescent moon was hidden behind a cloud. The moon reminded Sirius of his friend Remus Lupin, though it was not full. Maybe if Sirius could not stay with James at the Potter house, after escaping he could stay with Remus.

The lights were off in the wooden guesthouse that had once been a gazebo. Sirius was quiet as he walked down the hill towards it, his footsteps soft on the grass. He slowed as he approached its front door.

Sirius would have to get past the door (presumably locked), find his wand, and get out again, all without waking Ingvar and Igor Karkaroff. That would not be easy.

Taking a deep breath, Sirius closed his eyes and focused his magic. Hopefully he would be able to do an Alohomora spell wandlessly…

Click.

Sirius opened his gray eyes when he heard the unlocking sound. He silently congratulated himself and then pulled open the wooden door to the guesthouse.

* * *

The guesthouse was small. It had no kitchen or diningroom, just a sittingroom, a bathroom and one bedroom. Because there was only one bedroom, one of the Karkaroff men (probably Igor) was snoring on the sittingroom couch.

For a second, Sirius wondered when this little house had been furnished. Was the furniture transfigured from other items or purchased? Or had the Karkaroff father and son brought it from their home country?

Whatever. Sirius did not care. All he had to do now was find his wand and he would be gone. Gone from the Black Manor and the Black Family forever.

Sirius scanned the dark room. The only noise was the snoring from the figure asleep on the couch, the only movement that figure's breathing.

Sirius crept past the couch in the sittingroom towards the two closed doors ahead. One was a bathroom, the other was bedroom. But which was which, Sirius had no idea. He would just have to find out.

Sirius tried the first door. Unlocked. A toilet and bathtub greeted him.

Shaking his head, he closed that door and opened the next door. _There._ A bed with another figure asleep in it.

Sirius' gray eyes searched the rest of the room. A nightstand with a lamp beside the bed. A desk and a chair, both empty. A wardrobe—it was probably in there. The last time Sirius had seen his wand, Professor Karkaroff was putting it into his black uniform pocket.

Sirius tiptoed towards the wardrobe. He had almost made it when he heard something.

A voice.

Sirius stopped. He had been caught. _No! Not now! He was so close to escaping!_

The voice spoke again. Muttering something.

It was then Sirius realized that the muttering was not even in English. It was Karkaroff speaking in Russian or whatever language it was, talking in his sleep.

Sirius relaxed his tensed muscles. He was safe after all.

He continued to the wardrobe and opened it. The uniform swung towards him, moved by the wind generated by the opened wardrobe doors. Its pocket slapped Sirius in the face and he felt a stick tap his nose.

_His wand!_

Quickly, Sirius dug into the pocket, grabbed the wand and hurried out of the bedroom, without bothering to close the wardrobe doors or the bedroom door—though he did remember to close the front door to the guesthouse on his way out.

* * *

Back out in the darkness, Sirius hurried away from the guesthouse, past the shed he had been locked in daily for the past week, past the fountain with a stone bird statue, past the Black Manor itself. _He was finally escaping! Finally getting away from this horrific dark arts training and this horrific family._

Sirius was just passing by the side of the manor when he heard a strange scratching sound. At first, he thought it was an animal, but then it persisted.

Scratch. Scratch. Scratch.

Sirius stopped, turning towards the source of the sound. Slanted doubledoors, wooden, attached to the side of the Black Manor. They led down to the cellar. The cellar where the five muggles prisoners, who had been tortured for practice the entire week, were being held.

Sirius sighed.

As bad as he had had it this week—hell, as bad as he had had it his entire life—those five muggles had it worse. If Sirius was escaping, he had to help them escape, too.

Sirius flicked his wand and the doubledoors open.

Immediately, the skeletal face of a muggle man stared back at him, eyes wide in shock.

"No, please!" the man shouted, "No more pain!"

"Quiet!" Sirius hissed, glancing up at the windows of the manor above them to make sure nobody had been awoken by the shout.

The man shut his mouth. He knew by now to do as he was told by his captors.

"I'm not here to torture you." Sirius informed him in a whisper. "I'm here to get you out. We have to go. Now. Get the others."

The man stared in shock for a few moments.

"Hurry!" Sirius insisted.

The muggle man nodded. He glanced behind him and whispered something into the darkness of the cellar. Soon there were other pale and skinny muggle faces staring up through the opened doubledoors.

"Come on." Sirius urged.

He turned, starting away from the cellar doors and the manor they were attached to. The muggles followed.

* * *

The overgrown field was vast. It probably stretched on for miles. Sirius had no idea how far or where it led, but he sprinted into the maze of corn and tall grasses, a lumos spell lighting the way.

The muggles ran slow behind him. They were weakened from their days of torture and lack of proper sustenance and sunlight, and they had had already been sickly when they had arrived. Sirius wondered if they would even survive once they escaped…

"Where are we going?" The muggle man called, voice shaky and out of breath.

"I don't know!" Sirius admitted, still running.

He stopped running when he heard a crash behind him. Sliding on the muddy dirt beneath his feet, Sirius spun around to see that a skinny muggle woman had collapsed behind him. Another muggle man, the one with tattoos, had knelt beside her to help.

"Get up!" Sirius begged, "We have to hurry! They might already be chasing us!"

The muggle woman lay unconscious on some cornstalks and tallgrass she had flattened with her fall. The tattooed man shook his head up at Sirius from the ground.

"She needs medical attention." He said, "She's in withdrawal. She has it the worst of all of us."

Sirius knew nothing about muggle medicine. He shrugged his shoulders in confusion.

It was another muggle woman, still standing, that spoke up next. "We know you have some sort of supernatural powers, just like the ones who kidnapped up. Use them to save her!" She gestured at the unconscious woman on the ground.

"I can't, I'm sorry, I don't know how." Sirius shook his head, shaggy black hair shaking with it. He was genuinely sorry. He had never bothered to learn any healing spells and now he regretted it.

"We'll have to carry her." The first muggle man decided.

He and Tattoos started to lift the unconscious woman up, skinny bodies shaking under the woman's weight even though she was hardly more than a skeleton. The conscious woman watched, barely able to stand herself.

It was then that Sirius realized that there were only four muggles. There were supposed to be five. _Where was the fifth one?_

A scream.

It startled Sirius and the four muggles, so much so that the two muggle men dropped the muggle woman they were holding.

Whoever had screamed was not in sight, but was nearby, somewhere in the field.

Another scream.

The person was getting closer.

Sirius scanned the darkness. Nothing. Just tall grass and cornstalks and the four muggles in front of him.

He furrowed his brow. "There were five of you, before. Now there are only four. Where is the other one?"

"She took him." Tattoos said.

Sirius did not need any more clarification. He already knew who the tattooed muggle meant by 'she'.

Bellatrix.

There was another scream. Then some cackling. Bellatrix's evil laughter.

"You four have to go." Sirius said, _"Now."_

"What about you?" Asked the muggle woman who was still conscious.

"I have to save him." Sirius stated. He glanced over in the direction of the screams and cackling.

The three muggles nodded. The muggle men lifted the unconscious woman again and started to carry her away, the other muggle woman following them.

They went slow, though it was as fast as they could go. Sirius did not bother to watch them leave, he turned and starting running towards where he heard the fifth muggle's cries.

This might cost him his escape, Sirius realized. If he had not bothered to help the muggles, he would have been gone by now.

But he was a Gryffindor and Gryffindors were brave, Gryffindors helped those in need. If he did not help the muggle and only saved himself, he would be no better than a selfish, self-serving Slytherin. No better than a muggle-hater like the other members of the Black Family.

The crescent moon peered out from behind the gray clouds in the dark sky above, providing some minimal light to the overgrown cornfield. Sirius navigated through it, pushing vegetation out of his path and trampling it as he ran towards where he heard the muggle screaming and Bellatrix laughing.

He found them in a clearing.

The skinny and sickly muggle man lay sprawled on the dirt and dried plant ground. Bellatrix stood over him, blasting him with red light from her pointed wand.

Sirius pointed his wand at her. "Let him go."

The red light ceased. Bellatrix turned her head towards Sirius, dark eyes blinking in surprise.

"Go away, Gryffindor." She spat, "Can't you see I'm busy here?"

Sirius continued to point his wand at his crazy cousin. "Let him go." He repeated, "Or I'll—"

"Or you'll what?" Bellatrix snorted, flipping her long dark hair behind her with her free hand, "Let me punish you again like the weak little baby you are? You'll never beat me, Gryffindor, I'll always be stronger than you."

She kicked the muggle with her boot before staring towards where Sirius stood at the edge of the clearing. Now, she turned her wand towards him.

"CRUCIO!"

"Crucio!"

Sirius surprised himself when he shouted the same spell Bellatrix had. He had never used an Unforgivable Curse before, but if anyone deserved it, Bellatrix did.

Red beams of light blasted from both their wands, striking each other. But the light from Bellatrix's wand was more practice and more powerful. It quickly pushed through the angry but unfocused light from Sirius' wand.

Sirius felt his wand knocked out of his hand and then his body knocked back onto the packed earth and dried vegetation ground. He cried out as he fell backwards.

Then, he felt the pain.

Bellatrix cackled again. "What did I tell you, little blood traitor? I'm more powerful than you'll ever be. Crucio!"

The red blast hit Sirius again, this time with greater intensity as no red light from Sirius' wand had tried to stop it this time. Sirius cried out in pain again. And again. And again.

It felt like hours of pain, though it was probably only a few minutes.

During this time, the fifth muggle managed to escape the clearing while Bellatrix was busy torturing Sirius. Sirius was grateful for that, at least.

But the last thing he saw before passing out and being recaptured was his cruel cousin standing over him and yet another flash of red light.

* * *

**Monday**

* * *

"How is this _my_ fault?"

"You tortured your cousin for an hour instead of finding and recapturing the escaped muggles."

"But, my lord, I didn't even know they had escaped!"

Voldemort shook his head in dissatisfaction, turning away from Bella to face the window of the guestroom in which they stood. Looking through the glass down at the backyard, his red eyes could see the uniformed students surrounding the older Black son, the only one dressed in red, preparing to punish him further for his attempted escape.

"If you had use Legilimency to look into his mind, you would have." Voldemort reasoned.

"Well, I didn't think of that at the time…" Bella muttered.

"That's right." Voldemort agreed, continuing not to look at her, "You don't think."

Bella groaned but protested no more.

There was screaming audible now. Down on the back lawn Sirius was on the grassy being crucioed again by almost all the students, except for his brother Regulus. Even Rodolphus was participating this time, though last week he had advocated against punishing the older Black boy with the Cruciatus Curse. Well, Rodolphus was angrier now.

Voldemort sniffed at the sight he stared down at from the second floor window.

If it were up to him, he would just kill the boy and be done with it. The boy was a blood-traitor and Gryffindor, and would never fight for the cause of Pureblood Supremacy. He needed to be killed before he actively became an enemy.

"I should be out there helping them punish the traitor." Bella declared.

Voldemort turned to face her again. "No. You need to go and capture more muggles to replace the ones you allowed to escape."

"Alright, my lord." Bella nodded, even smiling a little. "I can do that."

* * *

The only people in neighborhood pub during midafternoon on a Monday were the unlucky ones without anything better to do but drink the day away.

One such unlucky one was a forty-something year old muggle man, out of work because the recent union strike. He could barely afford all the drinks he was having, sitting at the bar, but the bartender knew him and it was a slow time, and so he was able to keep drinking.

Unlucky was on his fourth—no fifth—no sixth, maybe (he had lost count) mug of beer when the most beautiful woman in the world walked into the pub. Well, maybe not the _most_ beautiful, that may have just been the beer and the dim lighting's opinion, but she was really pretty. Long dark hair, pale skin, red lips. A perfect Snow White.

Unlucky set down his mug on the wooden bar he sat in front of and turned to stare at her. His tired eyes only widened in surprise when he saw that she was looking at him, too, and she even smiled. A girl like _that_ smiled at _him!_

No woman had looked at him since his wife had left him for being a broke alcoholic. And even she had not smiled at him for months before she finally left.

Unlucky could not mess this up.

He hopped off of the barstool on which he sat, teetering as he tried to maintain his balance, and started towards the most beautiful woman in the world. She was walking towards him too.

They both stopped when they were face to face.

"Hello." Unlucky grinned.

The most beautiful woman in the world grinned back.

* * *

By sunset ten muggle men were lined up on the back lawn of the Black Manor. They kneeled before the Dark Lord, though they had been imperiused to do so and then stunned to keep them in that position.

Lord Voldemort examined each in turn, an expression mild approval on his white face. These prisoners were healthier than the previous ones, none of them were drug addicts—though a few had alcohol problems from what Voldemort could see in their minds. There were university students in addition to out of work adults, and even a few migrant workers from other countries.

"Well, you have succeeded in this, at least." Voldemort complimented his student. A backhanded compliment was the best he could do.

Bella smiled, accepting it, anyway. "I didn't even need to use the Imperius Curse. They all went with me willingly."

Voldemort turned his red eyes away from the new prisoners to look at Bella. "Offering yourself to muggles is nothing to boast about, Bella."

"I didn't 'offer myself' to them!" Bella gasped in offense. "No self-respecting pureblood witch would ever offer herself to a muggle man, let alone actually go through with it."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes at her but said nothing.

Bella quickly realized the implications of what she had said. She tried to rephrase, "I mean, I…I wasn't referring to your…" she did not say 'mother'.

"I know that." Voldemort replied, "But you have no tact for a woman of your status. Your manners and your behavior are closer to those of the kind of witch who would sleep with a muggle."

 _He_ was allowed to make comments like that. Bella was not.

"I'm sorry, my lord." Bella apologized, grimacing.

Slowly, but surely, she was beginning to see how her words and actions reflected poorly on her. One day she might actually gain some self-control and foresight, and become the obedient, respectful, and prudent soldier she should be.

"Go put the prisoners in the cellar." Voldemort ordered.

Bella nodded then waved her wand, unparalyzing the new prisoners and placing them under the Imperius Curse again.

* * *

**Tuesday**

* * *

Sirius awoke to the sound of screaming. He was alone in the bedroom of bunkbeds. He did not know what day or time it was right now, he had passed out Monday afternoon while being punished by the students. His younger brother Regulus had not participated, but he had not spoken up or tried to help him, either.

Sirius attempted to sit up in bed but was too weak to move. His gray eyes were unfocused as they gazed at the dimly-lit room. He just wanted to go back to sleep…

More screaming. Sirius could not sleep with all the screaming. _Who was screaming? Had the prisoners Sirius helped escape been recaptured? Were new prisoners captured?_

Sirius wanted to get up and go over to the window to check, to get up and try to escape again, but he still could not move. So Sirius lay in the top bunk of the bed, staring up at the ceiling and listening to the muggles scream.

* * *

"Never, in all my years of teaching, have I ever encountered a student so defiant, so unwilling to learn, as that boy Sirius Black." Ingvar Karkaroff complained, from where he sat on the sittingroom couch, "I would even rather teach _her,_ than him."

He pointed at Bella, who was leaning against the armchair in which Voldemort was seated. Bella rolled her dark eyes.

The armchair usually belonged to Cygnus Black. But right now, he was sitting in the one across from his usual, which usually belonged to his wife. Druella was currently cooking lunch in the kitchen.

"I say we send him home to my sister." Cygnus stated, "He's Walburga's son, she can handle disciplining him. And, by the way, she won't be happy that anyone else was involved in his discipline, no matter how much he deserves it."

Voldemort wanted to say 'just kill the boy and be done with it', but he remained silent. Bella, however, did not remain silent.

"I can break him." She declared, "Just let me use the Cruciatus Curse on him again—"

"You've done enough, Bellatrix." Cygnus barked sternly, "Your cousin's discipline isn't your concern. You shouldn't even be a part of this conversation. Go help your mother in the kitchen."

Now Voldemort spoke from where he sat in the black armchair. "She can stay. You had years to train your daughter to be domestic, Cygnus, and you failed. It's too late to send her to the kitchen now."

Cygnus scowled. He opened his mouth to retort, but then closed it again, deciding it was better not to.

"For once I agree with her." Ingvar stated, "I think corporal punishment is the only way to get an unruly child or an unruly soldier in line."

Cygnus shook his gray-haired head. "You cannot use the Cruciatus Curse on Sirius again. Walburga is already going to be furious when she hears of this."

"No, she'll probably thank us." Bella snorted, "And then use it on him again herself for good measure."

Both Ingvar and Cygnus were about to speak when a noise interrupted them.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Someone's at the door." Cygnus said, "Bella, go get it."

Bella did not move.

Knock, knock, knock. It was louder this time. Almost like banging.

"Bella, go get it." Voldemort said, glancing over at where she was leaning against the chair where he sat.

Bella _did_ move.

Voldemort smirked at Cygnus, who grimaced. Bella crossed the dimly-lit sitting room and exited it into the hallway.

The remaining men in the room listened as her footsteps hurried down the hardwood floor of the hall. Then they heard the front door swing open.

"You?" Bella's voice sputtered. "No, you can't come in. I won't have a filthy werewolf in my house!"

"Get out of my way. I need to speak to Lord Voldemort right now."

It was the voice of Fenrir Greyback. _What could he possibly want?_

Voldemort stood up from the armchair and started out of the sittingroom into the hall. He had to intercept the conversation between Bella and Greyback before the former crucioed the latter and he lost the support of the werewolves.

Bella and Greyback were standing in the foyer, wands aimed at each other, when Voldemort arrived. They both turned to look at him.

"Call your dog off." Greyback requested.

" _I'm_ the dog?" Bella scoffed. "You're the dog, you infected halfbreed."

"You're a bitch." Greyback growled.

"Creative." Bella yawned.

Voldemort rolled his red eyes. "Put down your wands, both of you."

Slowly, cautiously, Bella and Greyback lowered their wands. They eyed Voldemort expectantly.

Voldemort turned to Greyback. The tall, muscular wolfman looked more disheveled than usual. His trousers were ripped and there were scratch marks all over his body, some of them still bleeding.

"Why are you here?" Voldemort asked him.

"Lycaon found out my pack and I did another job for you," Greyback explained, "He wasn't happy. He tried to kill us. I barely got away. You have to help me kill him and take command of the werewolves."

"Lycaon is an old man." Voldemort responded, "You and your…'pack' couldn't handle him on your own?"

"Look, if you want the werewolves to be loyal to you, Lycaon has to die." Greyback reasoned, "He's got a few loyalists that'll defend him, but if we kill all of them and Lycaon, then the rest of the werewolves will follow me."

"And _you_ will follow _me."_ Voldemort added.

"Sure, of course, as long as you'll help me." Greyback shrugged.

"We'll go tonight." Voldemort decided.

* * *

The abandoned coal mine was in Wales.

The colliery had been shut down over ten years ago, but the metal structures, several stories high, and machinery remained, as well as the deep holes and tunnels in the ground. The metal structures had giant metal wheels, which creaked, slowly turning, in the night wind. There were also brick buildings that had once housed muggle miners and now house werewolves.

The windows of the buildings were dark, but there were silhouettes just barely visible in them anyway. There were also silhouettes standing on the structures. Werewolf eyes were watching from all direction.

Voldemort was walking across the dirt ground, stepping on the weeds that had sprouted from it, towards the little brick building where he knew Lycaon lived. Bella and Greyback walked on either side of him.

"If this is a trap..." Voldemort warned Greyback.

"It's not." Greyback assured, but his muscular body was tense. His eyes were darting in all directions and his nose was sniffing, in an attempt to figure out who was watching.

"I'm not afraid of werewolves." Bella chuckled.

"You should be." Greyback snarled, "Pureblood girls taste the best and every single wolf here can smell you from a mile off." He breathed deeply in Bella's direction for effect.

Voldemort gave Greyback a warning look. Greyback smirked but did not say anything else.

Bella drew her wand. "I'll kill you and any other of your kind if you so much as turn your 'snout' in my direction again."

Voldemort gave Bella a warning look. Bella narrowed her eyes but did not say anything else.

It was dark and the moon was nowhere near full, though it glowed white, unobscured by gray clouds in the black sky. At least all of the werewolves would be in human form tonight, making them less dangerous, especially because some of them were muggle werewolves.

Suddenly, the door to the little brick house opened. Out of it hobbled a white-haired old man. His spine was curved, making him short and bent-forward, and his body was more wrinkled than muscles.

Lycaon.

How had Greyback lost a fight to that weak old man? Voldemort wondered. Lycaon must have had younger, stronger bodyguards, although they were nowhere to be seen now and the old man was alone.

Bella let out a laugh as soon as she saw the old man.

"Quiet, Bella." Voldemort glanced at her. He then looked at the old man in front of him again.

"I told Fenrir not to come back here." Lycaon spoke in gravelly, weak voice. "I told you the same thing, too, one year ago, Marvolo."

"I don't use that name anymore." Voldemort stated.

"I don't care what your name is now and I don't want to be part of your insane plans." Lycaon replied, "Neither do my people." He gestured at the silhouettes watching from the machinery above and all around them.

"Yes we do." Greyback countered, "We're sick of hiding. We want to fight."

"I'm giving both of you, and the pureblood witch you brought with you, one last chance to leave." Lycaon said.

Bella laughed again. This time Voldemort did not stop her and in fact laughed a little himself.

"I'm giving you one last chance to step down as leader and accept me as the Dark Lord." He stated, "If you refuse, only you will be to blame for your death."

Now Lycaon was the one to laugh. It was the dry, coughing laugh of an old man. "You think you can kill me? I've been king of the Werewolves for almost one hundred years and no one has managed to come even close to killing me yet."

The skinny, wrinkled body of the old man began to morph. Muscles grew—his entire body grew, taller and larger, bigger than Greyback was. And then, _fur._ White fur sprouted everywhere.

Lycaon had become a giant white wolf.

Voldemort's red eyes blinked in shock. "How is this possible?"

He glanced up at the sky to make sure the moon was not full. Indeed there was only a crescent moon, partially obscured by clouds. He then glanced at Greyback, who grimaced.

"He's an unregistered animagus." Greyback said. "Now you see why my pack and I couldn't beat him."

"You neglected to mention that when you asked for my help." Voldemort narrowed his eyes.

"If I had, you wouldn't have come." Greyback reasoned.

Voldemort turned his wand towards Greyback, but before he could retaliate against the werewolf for his omission, the giant white wolf was lunging towards them.

"Crucio!" Bella shouted, already blasting the beast with red light.

Lycaon continued to rush towards them, seemingly unhurt by the Unforgiveable Curse.

Bella gaped in shock at this. But once she had overcome the initial shock tried again. "Crucio!"

Still, the wolf was unhindered. He tackled Bella and pinned her to the dirt ground with giant paws, claws digging into her skin.

One bite could have turned her, or killed her, but she was not Lycaon's target. He quickly jumped off of her and rushed towards Voldemort and Greyback.

The two wizards blasted curses and hexes at him, but they just bounced off. Lycaon must have been using some kind of magical shield.

Lycaon tackled Greyback next.

As soon as he did, Voldemort backed away. He glanced at Bella who was getting back up after being knocked over, injured but not seriously. She glanced back at him for instructions of what to do.

At that, Voldemort just apparated away. If she was smart, Bella would do the same.

* * *

Voldemort was the only one who had returned from the abandoned colliery uninjured. He stood in the foyer of the Black Manor watching as both Bella and Greyback were healed of their wounds by Rodolphus and Druella, respectively, neither of whom were happy that Voldemort had brought Bella along to a lair of werewolves to fight their leader.

Druella did not even like having a werewolf inside her home, and neither did Bella. But it was too dark to do the healing outside, even with the sliver of moonlight.

Bella had disapparated right after Voldemort had. They appeared on the outskirts of the Black's estate at roughly the same time. It was Greyback who had arrived almost ten minutes later, covered in blood.

Now, Greyback tried his best to remains till soft light from Druella's wand closed the bleeding cuts on his shirtless chest. There were still wounds on the legs as well.

"A little lower, please." Greyback requested with false politeness.

Druella tensed in disgust, retracting her wand, and herself away from the werewolf.

"That's my mother you're talking to." Bella snapped, face and long dark hair whipping towards him.

"I can tell." Greyback grinned, "She smells just like you. The sweet smell of pureblood meat."

"That's my wife you're talking to." Rodolphus snapped. His wand stopped healing Bella to point at Greyback.

"Is she?" Greyback sniffed, "It doesn't smell like you two have been… _close_ in a while."

Rodolphus glared.

"Enough, Greyback." Voldemort said, "You're lucky I didn't kill you. If you don't treat these purebloods with the respect they deserve, I may change my mind."

Greyback rolled his eyes but changed the subject. "I know you've got an army training here. We should take them to kill Lycaon."

"I have another plan." Voldemort stated.

* * *

Lycaon did not waste time talking when Voldemort, Bella, and Greyback returned to the abandoned mine. He immediately transformed into his giant wolf form again and sprinted towards them, sharp teeth gnashing.

The three just stepped out of the way. Lycaon did not see the giant snake until it was striking towards him, mouth open wide and fangs dripping with venom.

Voldemort, Bella, and Greyback watched as the two animals struggled for a moment until the snake plunged her teeth into the white wolf. Then the wolf went limp and the snake swallowed him whole with all the werewolves watching from the metal structures and the brick buildings.

Eyes widening in pleasant surprise, Greyback folded his muscular arms across his bare chest. "Well, then."

"You owe me your life and your loyalty, now." Voldemort told him, "Don't forget that." He then added, "After all, you've just seen what happens when a werewolf crosses me."

He gestured at Nagini, larger than she had ever been and lying straight on the dirt ground because she now too fat to curl. She hissed in satisfaction at her meal.

Greyback's expression of pleasant surprise turned to fear. He nodded, eyes still wide. "Yes. Yes, my lord."

* * *

**Wednesday**

* * *

Bellatrix was right. She was more powerful than Sirius. A better fighter.

…but that could change.

Sirius knew what he had to do. Instead of escaping the Dark Arts training, he needed to participate in it. To learn all the skills the army of the so-called 'Dark Lord' was learning so that if there ever were a war, he would be able to fight back against them.

And then, if he ever fought Bellatrix again, he would _win._

All the other students gasped when they saw Sirius hobble down the hill from the Black Manor towards where they were training in the backyard, still in pain from the hours of punishment two days earlier. He was dressed in the gray uniform that midmorning, the same color as most of the other students' and the same color as the gray clouds in the sky.

The uniformed students lowered their wands, wide-eyed heads turning to look at Sirius. Only Regulus stared down at the grassy ground, ashamed that he had let his older brother be crucioed multiple times.

Across from the nine students were nine new muggle prisoners. So more prisoners had been captured. Sirius felt sick to his stomach. He had helped the other prisoners only for new ones to take their place. And he might not be able to save these ones…

The new prisoners stared down at the grass, just like Regulus did, from where they knelt before the students practicing spells on them. It had only been two days but their facial expressions already exhibited the weariness of being tortured.

Professor Karkaroff turned to Sirius. "What are you doing here, boy?"

"I want to participate." Sirius declared, "I've learned my lesson. I'll behave from now on. I want to serve the Dark Lord and fight for Pureblood Supremacy."

It was all a lie, of course. But hopefully one that would not be discovered until after Sirius had gained the skills necessary to defeat this hate group.

Professor Karkaroff narrowed his eyes. "Why should I believe you?"

"I just don't want the pain anymore." Sirius said, trying his best to sound pathetic and defeated, "Participating will make it stop, right?"

"…yes…it will." Karkaroff confirmed, still suspicious, "But before I allow you to participate, you will have to prove your loyalty."

Sirius tensed. He swallowed then said, "I'll do anything."

"Use the Cruciatus Curse on that muggle." Professor Karkaroff ordered. He tossed Sirius his wand, which has been confiscated again, and then gestured at the muggle closest to where Sirius stood.

The young muggle tensed where he was kneeling in front of Rodolphus Lestrange, glancing up at Sirius with wide pleading eyes and shaking his head. Though he was a muggle, he had quickly learned what the Cruciatus Curse was by experience.

He looked like he was only a few years older than Sirius. Like the two of them could have been friends if they had known each other. It made Sirius uneasy.

"Please." The muggle begged from the ground, "Don't."

"Silence!" Karkaroff barked.

The young muggle immediately shut his mouth. But he continued to stare up at Sirius, imploring him not to use the spell that caused excruciating pain.

Sirius hesitated for a moment. But he knew the only way to gain the fighting skills he needed was to participate in this dark arts training and the only way to participate in this dark arts training was to gain the professor's trust.

"…I'm sorry…" Sirius muttered under his breath, so quietly that even the young muggle probably was unable to hear him.

Then, he raised his wand.

* * *

Unlucky could not believe what was happening. This had to be a nightmare. Yes, that was what it was. He had passed out in the pub and now he was in a coma having the worst nightmare of his life.

There was no way he had actually been kidnapped by a young woman with magical powers and taken to a manor house in the middle of nowhere to be tortured by some kind of evil cult. That was impossible and made no sense. It could not be real.

This had to be a dream.

Right now, Unlucky was paralyzed, lying on the dirt ground of a clearing in some field. The young woman, deceptive in her beauty, and an older man, who looked like he might have once been handsome but now resembled a Victorian Era serial killer from a horror movie.

"If your cousin had successfully escaped, he no doubt would have reported us to the Ministry and we would be under investigation by the Auror Office right now." The man said to the woman, "That's why you need to learn to erase memories and replace them with false ones."

The woman nodded. "What is the spell, my lord?"

Her _lord?_ Was she some evil witch who had summoned the devil? Unlucky had heard of Satanists before, he had just never heard of them actually being successful in their attempts to summon demons from hell—let alone summon the devil himself.

"Construo memorio." The man—or the devil—stated, "But it involves more than saying the incantation. In order to implant new memories, you must rearrange the person's existing ones, which can only be accessed through Legilimency. It takes imagination, skill, and detail for the memories you create to be believable."

"What kind of memory do you want me to create for him?" the woman—or witch—asked, gesturing at Unlucky.

Unlucky would have tensed in nervousness but he was already paralyzed. He stared up at the beautiful young woman, and then at the scary-looking man. The scary looking man was staring back at him with creepy red eyes.

"He had a wife, once, but she left him." Devil told the woman.

And that proved that this was all a dream. The scary man could not have possibly read Unlucky's mind… _right?_

Witch smirked. "I'll give him a memory of him walking in on her with another man."

She raised a stick and pointed it at Unlucky.

It was the same stick she used to do all her magic. Maybe, if Unlucky could just get unparalyze and get the magic stick away from her, then he could use its magic to free himself…if, of course, this was not actually a nightmare, which it most definitely had to be.

"Construo memorio." Witch chanted.

A beam of light shot from the stick right towards Unlucky. Unable to move, it struck him in the center of his forehead.

Suddenly, Unlucky was no longer in the clearing of the cornfield. He was somewhere else. Somewhere _familiar._

_Unlucky recognized this place. He was standing in front of the door to the bedroom he used to share with his now ex-wife, before she left and got the house in the divorce._

_The door was closed but Unlucky could hear some sounds coming from the other side. Slowly, he reached forward and turned the knob, pushing the door open._

_The bedroom was dark. But Unlucky could see the silhouette of two figures moving in the bed. He clicked the lightswitch on the wall next to the door._

_Now completely visible was his wife with a taller, more muscular man than her husband in bed. They did not stop their…activity. His wife just laughed._

" _You'll never be good enough for me!" she cried, between moans, "But I've found a better man than you!"_

_Unlucky just shook his head._

_This was obviously fake. His wife was an unaffectionate and unenthusiastic woman, even when they were dating. She had barely slept with him and she certainly was not sleeping with other men._

_More proof that this was just a bad dream. And not a very good bad dream, for that matter, since it was more ridiculous than frightening._

Unlucky was back in the clearing with Devil and Witch staring down at him again. Devil turned to Witch and shook his head.

"You failed to make the memory believable." He said, "And so the muggle's mind rejected it."

Witch groaned. "How was I supposed to know his wife's personality?"

"Legilimency." Devil replied.

Witch sighed. "…right. I'll try again…"

* * *

That night, Sirius just wanted to be alone.

He had done it. He had actually used the Cruciatus Curse on a fellow human being.

Even though he had only done it so he could one day defeat the very army he was pretending to be a part of that did not make it right. Was he really any better than the other students? Than Bellatrix?

A human would have been spotted walking away from the Black Manor, especially Sirius after his failed escape attempt. But nobody noticed the shaggy black dog trot away from the manor, past the overgrown field, further and further until he reached a small forest.

He could just leave now, Sirius realized. Just run away as a dog and be done with the Dark Arts training and his family.

But that would be the cowardly thing to do. A true Gryffindor would not flee from his fears and enemies; he would face them. And so Sirius the brave Gryffindor would remain undercover and participate in the training until he had the necessary skills to face his enemies.

Sirius the shaggy black dog was just about to leave the wooded area and return to the Black Manor, when he heard rustling in some nearby bushes. He sniffed, turning his snout towards the source of the sound.

In the twilight, he could see a hand was reaching out of the bushes.

Confused, Sirius approached, padding over the sticks and dead leaves of the forest floor, towards the bushes, surrounded by trees. The hand continued to reach out.

Sirius barked.

The hand retracted into the bushes.

Sirius sniffed again, poking his snout in between the leaves. The smell of human— _muggle._

Maybe it was one of the escaped prisoners? Perhaps they were camping out in this small forest…

Sirius scurried around the bushes to find out.

The dead bodies of three of the escaped muggle prisoners lay on the ground. There were bleeding bite marks in their necks and their eyes were still open, staring blankly up at the treetops of the small forest and the evening sky.

Beside them was biggest snake Sirius had ever seen. Its belly was full with a human-shaped lump, and its mouth wide, currently swallowing another human, only an arm still reaching out.

Sirius stood there, stunned, in shock.

He locked eyes with the giant snake. The extended arm disappeared down its throat.

Then, the snake started slithering, slowly because it was so full. It slid over the three remaining bodies, towards the dog.

Sirius the brave Gryffindor would have stayed and fought.

Sirius the shaggy black dog turned and ran.

* * *

**Thursday**

* * *

It was one in the morning.

…so why was Bella still here? Just because the bed in the guestroom was big enough for two people did not mean that it had to be utilized by two people at all times.

Voldemort should not have invited Bella to his room that night. She certainly had not earned it since she had not yet been able to implant a false memory into the captured muggle's mind.

But the first memory Bella had attempted to give the muggle, the story of a husband catching his wife with a better man…well, that implanted the idea into Voldemort's mind, and now here they were.

Still, it was stupid, a waste of time, and arguably weak to just lie in bed with someone, and so Voldemort sat up and moved to the edge of the bed, away from where Bella rested against a pillow, as if disgusted with her—or himself.

Bella's dark eyes narrowed at him in offense.

Voldemort could see in Bella's mind that she was thinking about how she did not understand why he always moved away from her immediately after sex, and how she was so beautiful that any man should be proud to have her in his bed, even the Dark Lord, and so what in Merlin's name was his problem?

For once, though, she did not say all of this outloud. She was finally learning to censor her speech.

"It's time for you to leave now, Bella," Voldemort said, "Your husband's probably waiting up for you upstairs."

Bella snickered at that. "He hasn't spoken to me since you interrupted our training last week. He won't even look at me."

"Again?" Voldemort replied, though he did not really care.

He would never understand Rodolphus Lestrange.

All the man had to do was stand up to his wife and punish her for her misbehavior instead of putting up with her abuse and 'loving' her anyway. If Rodolphus did that, Bella would respect him and, as a result, believe she was in love with him. Voldemort knew that for a fact, from his own experience, as it had only taken him a few days to gain Bella's respect through that very method.

"Yes, and Regulus has been ignoring me to." Bella added, "I looked into his mind. He hasn't forgiven me for making him use the Cruciatus Curse on a muggle. I don't know why he's so sympathetic towards muggles. He was raised better than that."

"Obviously not." Voldemort snorted, "His brother was sorted into Gryffindor and freed the muggle prisoners here. Both boys have far too much love for muggles. Their parents have failed them."

As ineffective Bella's parents had been in teaching her manners, at least they had succeeded in making sure two of their children hated muggles. Orion and Walburga Black apparently had not.

Bella shook her head, long dark hair shaking with it. "No. No, my lord. Reggie is a good boy. He's nothing like that muggle-loving Gryffindor. He'd never betray his family."

"Let's hope so," Voldemort sniffed, "because I don't think your family could handle any more embarrassment."

Bella grimaced, glancing down at the bedsheets in shame. Very few things embarrassed her but her middle sister the blood-traitor did.

Suddenly, there was a noise.

It startled both Voldemort and Bella. The door to the bedroom was opening. They half expected it to be Rodolphus bursting in to confront them, but they also knew Rodolphus was not man enough to actually do that.

Instead, Nagini the snake pushed the door slightly open and slithered into the room.

Bella glared at it and then turned to Voldemort. "I thought you were keeping that thing outside! How did it get into the house?"

"My pet can come and go as she please." Voldemort dismissed. Though that did not explain _how_ Nagini had entered the manor and managed to push open a bedroom door that had been locked by magic. He actually did not know for certain, but he assumed the snake had magical abilities.

Voldemort reached for his wand, which sat on the nightstand beside the queensize bed. He waved it and the door closed behind Nagini.

Nagini hissed in disapproval at the sight before her. A halfblood and pureblood in bed together. "I thought you said you would stop this missanguination. Salazar Slytherin would—"

"I don't need judgement from animal." Voldemort interrupted, in parseltongue, "Why are you here?"

"I saw an animagus in the form of a dog sniffing around nearby this property." Nagini informed, "I tried to catch him, but he escaped. I was too slow because I had just eaten two of the escaped prisoners."

"When did this happen?" Voldemort asked.

"A few hours ago." Nagini answered.

"And you're only alerting me now?" Voldemort snapped, "There could be a spy from the Ministry or an assassin sent by Abraxas Malfoy trespassing right now."

He leaped up and grabbed his clothes, which rested at the foot of the bed. They were all black. He started to get dressed.

"I was unable to move until I finished digesting." Nagini explained, "But I scared the animagus away."

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes. "Are you sure?"

"Yes." Nagini confirmed, "I did not smell his scent anywhere on this estate."

Voldemort sat back down on the edge of the bed, calming down. "Would you recognize the scent if you smelled it again?"

"Yes." Nagini said, "But only if he was in animagus form."

At this point, Bella groaned in annoyance and mild concern. "What are you two talking about? What is going on?"

"Nagini spotted an animagus nearby." Voldemort told her. "He may have been sent by the Ministry or by Abraxas.

Bella leaped up, grabbing her wand in one hand and her dress in the other. "I'll hunt him down—"

"He already escaped." Voldemort said.

"…oh." Bella sighed in disappointment. She dropped the dress from her hand, but not her wand.

She was just standing there naked. Nagini hissed in disapproval again.

"This is no way for a pureblood woman to behave." Nagini declared, even though she knew Bella could not understand her. She then turned to Voldemort, "You should not allow this."

Voldemort pointed his wand at the snake and gave her warning look "You should not try to tell me what to do. Just because you're Slytherin's own breed of snake doesn't mean I won't slaughter you like any other animal."

Nagini hissed but said no more. She turned and slithered back towards the door. The door opened for her, via a wave from Voldemort's wand, and she exited through it.

Once the door had closed again, Bella standing, turned to Voldemort.

"Perhaps, I should become an animagus, my lord." She suggested, while searching for her underwear. The room was dark and all her clothing was black, so this was a difficult task.

"It's disgraceful for a wizard or witch to turn themselves into a creature even lower than a muggle." Voldemort replied.

"But it would be useful for me to be some kind of predatory animal, don't you think?" Bella reasoned, "Like a panther, or a raven, or a bear—"

"You don't get to choose which animal you become." Voldemort stated, "An animagus is the reflection of the soul, just like a patronus."

"I've never made a patronus." Bella said. She had found her undergarments and was now in the process of putting them back on.

Finally. The sooner she got dressed, the sooner she would leave and Voldemort would have some quiet to figure out what to do about the possible security breech on the Black Estate.

"And you'll never have to." Voldemort assured from where he sat on the edge of the bed. "The Dementors will join me once the war begins, they'll never attack you or any of my other followers."

Or himself. But that was because he barely had a soul in his body for the dementors to try to feed off of.

"Do you have a patronus?" Bella wondered, "An animagus form?"

"If I did, why would I tell you?" Voldemort dismissed, "As I said, both are reflections of the soul. What makes you think you're worthy of seeing the Dark Lord Voldemort's soul?"

Bella grimaced, hmming. She could not think of an answer.

 _Exactly._ Because she was not worthy. No one was.

* * *

**Friday**

* * *

_This can't be real. One day I'm day studying in a café, and the next day I'm here, being held prisoner by these people with magic powers. I always knew there was strange stuff in this world, stuff the government wasn't telling us, but this…this is too much. I just want to go home…_

Sirius closed his eyes.

He could not look into the eyes of the young muggle man who was kneeling before him anymore. He shook his head, shaggy black hair shaking with it, and then stared down at his shoes as soon as his gray eyes opened again.

This morning, in the backyard of the Black Manor, the students were learning Legilimency.

It terrified Sirius because if any of them were to look into his mind then they would discover that he was only _pretending_ to cooperate with the dark arts training now. Luckily, though, Professor Karkaroff was also teaching them Occlumency, and so Sirius was learning a way to keep people from looking into his mind, as well.

Sirius, wearing a black uniform, stood next to his younger brother, Regulus, wearing a black uniform. Regulus looked similarly uncomfortable with prying into the mind of the muggle kneeling before him, though he was trying to hide it.

Sirius had always believed Regulus was a 'lost cause', that he would never go against their family's anti-muggle and Pureblood Supremacist ways. But if he was able to look into his brother's mind then he would be able to know for sure if there was any hope to convince Regulus to accept all people.

"Hey, Regulus." Sirius said.

Regulus blinked. He broke eye-contact with the middle-aged muggle knelt in front of him and turned his head to face his older brother Sirius.

He smiled, nervously. "Yeah?" He was probably still guilty about letting Sirius get locked in a shed for a week and then crucioed by the whole class, as well as by Bella.

Sirius' gray eyes looked into Regulus' dark eyes…

_I can't believe Sirius finally came around after all these years, I hope it's for real. If he's able to do it, then I should be to. So why do I keep hesitating? We both crucioed muggles. There's no going back now. We're soldiers for the cause of Pureblood Supremacy._

"…nothing." Sirius sighed and turned away from his younger brother.

He had been right all along. Regulus was lost.

* * *

"It would be some kind of snake, for sure." Witch guessed, "Because you're the heir of Slytherin."

"Bella, stay focused." Devil replied, "You're supposed to be modifying the muggle's memory."

So Witch's name was 'Bella', then? _Strange name for a witch,_ Unlucky thought. It meant beautiful, and though Witch was outwardly pretty, she was evil inside. 'Witch' suited her better as a name.

Unlucky was paralyzed again, sitting the clearing of the overgrown field beneath the afternoon sun. Witch and Devil were standing over him, Witch was pointing her stick thing at him again.

She sighed and waved the stick. "Construo memorio."

Suddenly, Unlucky was no longer in the clearing.

_He was lying down somewhere, he could not yet see where he was. The room was bright and his vision was fuzzy. There was a beep, beep, beep sound…_

_"He's coming to!" a voice said._

_"Oh, thank god!" another voice shrieked. His wife's voice._

_Unlucky blinked and opened his eyes again. Finally, his vision became clear again._

_He was in a white room. A hospital room. Standing over him, by his bedside, were his wife and a doctor._

_Unlucky sighed in relief, tears forming in his eyes._

_So this truly just was all a bad dream after all, he truly had just been in an alcohol-induced coma, none of this was real…_

_Laughter._

_His wife was laughing. Why was she laughing?_

_His wife's face began to shift. She started getting younger, her hair and eyes grew darker…_

_The witch!_

_Wife had been replaced by Witch!_

_Doctor was getting replaced, too. His face slowly morphed into the pale, red-eyed face of Devil._

_"No!" Unlucky cried. He closed his eyes, shaking his head._

When Unlucky opened his eyes again, he was back in the clearing, back with Witch and Devil standing over him.

"You're getting better at this, Bella," Devil commented, "He believed the memory for a few moments. If you hadn't started laughing at him, it would have become permanent."

Witch continued to snicker. "Sorry, my lord, I couldn't help it. I never considered the mental torture of muggles, but now I see it's just as fun as physical torture."

Devil rolled his red eyes. "This isn't about 'torture' and 'fun', this is about learning to properly modify a person's memory. When you successfully master that, then you can have fun."

Witch nodded. She turned towards Unlucky again, staring down at him with dark eyes that looked like empty black chasms.

She pointed her stick and opened her mouth to say the weird Latin words again, but then closed her mouth and lowered her stick. She turned back to Devil again.

"A basilisk!" She exclaimed, "Your animagus and patronus would be a basilisk, right?"

Devil's fist clenched in anger and annoyance. "You're not getting another warning…"

"Just think of how useful that would be," Witch continued anyway, "You could turn anyone who opposes you to stone on sight. You could walk into the Ministry of Magic building and conquer it—"

Witch scream in pain as she tumbled backwards onto the packed earth ground of the cornfield clearing. She had been struck by an orange light.

"I warned you." Devil said.

He moved to stand over Witch, staring down at her threateningly. She stared back up at him, worry in her wide dark eyes.

Unlucky, still paralyzed, could only sit and watch in horror. If that was what Devil was willing to do to his own worshipper, then a prisoner like Unlucky and the other men who had been captured would certainly experience much, much worse.

Unlucky still wished, still hoped that this was all just a nightmare, a dream he was having in a coma. But now he was beginning to realize that it was real and that he would probably die here.

* * *

**Friday**

* * *

The sun rose among the sparse gray clouds in the sky above the Black Manor. There was still dew on the grass of its front lawn.

On the cobblestone path leading up to the manor stood three figures, still slightly obscured in the dim early-morning light. Lord Voldemort, Bellatrix Lestrange, and Antonin Dolohov.

 _"Him?"_ Bella griped, "How can you trust him with security? He's a drunk, just like that muggle I captured. I can smell the alcohol on him now." She sniffed while gesturing to Antonin.

Dolohov rolled his inebriated-looking eyes. "I'm Russian, beautiful. We don't get drunk. Vodka is like water to us." He held up a half-full bottle in the hand that should have held his wand and took a swig.

His clothes were stained and baggy, dark brown rather than black. He did not wear a robe. His facial hair had not been trimmed in a week, nor his head hair been combed.

Voldemort narrowed his red eyes at Dolohov. "I don't want you intoxicated on the job. Security of this property and the dark arts training occurring here is of the upmost importance—"

"Then why are you trusting him?!" Bella interrupted. She was chewing something and it was interfering with her speech.

"…no one else was available." Voldemort admitted, turning to her, "I would have asked the werewolf, but his kind don't belong around purebloods. Antonin Dolohov was the only one else I trust who is not otherwise employed."

Dolohov scowled in offense. "I'm your _second_ choice? I thought we were friends."

"Be a good friend, then, and start patrolling the perimeter of this property." Voldemort ordered, facing the scruffy man again, "If you see any dogs, or animals of any kind, kill them." He then added, "And put down that bottle."

Antonin rotated the bottle in his hand, examining it.

"Now, Antonin." Voldemort followed.

Dolohov took one more drink, emptying the contents of the bottle into his mouth in one long chug, and then dropped the bottle onto the dew-covered grass. He pulled his wand from his pocket, next.

Voldemort and Bella watched as Antonin started back down the cobblestone path, away from the house, to start his patrol of the property. When he was just a figure in the distance, Voldemort turned to Bella.

"What's in your mouth?" He asked.

"What're you talking about, my lord?" Bella feigned innocence. She was also putting up a very strong Occlumency shield at the moment, too.

Very strong…but not so strong that Voldemort could not have broken through it had he wanted to. What he really wanted, though, was not to have to. She should tell the truth to him automatically.

"Bella..." Voldemort warned, raising his wand in threat of a pain spell.

"…a mandrake leaf." Bella disclosed, glancing down at her shoes atop the cobblestone path. "I got it from my sister, who got it from the Malfoy Apothecary."

"You're trying to become an animagus." Voldemort noted.

Bella nodded. "It might prove useful—crucial, even—in the future. And, I'm curious to find out what animal I'll get."

"You have to hold that leaf in your mouth for a month." Voldemort reminded.

"I know." Bella grimaced, "How am I supposed to eat?" Her stomach growled.

Apparently she had not eaten since she had put the leaf in mouth—which had to have been sometime yesterday afternoon or evening, after training had abruptly ended due to Bella's inability to remain focused on the lesson (and her consistent demands to find out what Voldemort's animagus would be).

Voldemort sighed. Did he really have to teach Bella _everything?_

With a wave of his wand, the mandrake leaf in Bella's stuck to the roof of her mouth and then molded into it. Bella gasped in surprise and relief.

"I don't feel it anymore!" she exclaimed, "Thank you, my lord!" Her smile of joy quickly turned to a smirk, "The fact that you know how to do that means that you _did_ at least attempt to become an animagus once."

Voldemort was already raising his wand to blast Bella with an ache hex—maybe even a crucio—for bringing up the subject yet again after he had told her not to (so much for her learning to censor her speech).

But then Bella quickly added, "But I'm not worthy enough to know what your animal form is, or if you even have one at all."

Voldemort lowered his wand.

He used to have animagus form. As soon as he had learned about animagi in Hogwarts, he had stolen the mandrake leaf and found a spell in an old textbook from the library to make it stay in his mouth for a month. An entire month he had waited and then finally, he was able to transform.

…into a tiny garden snake.

Just like the ones he spoke to in the yard of the orphanage. His only friends there.

Twelve year old Tom Riddle had never been so disappointed and infuriated in his life. He was the best student in his year, probably in the whole school, and would definitely become the most powerful wizard in the world when he grew up, and all he got was a lousy little garden snake?!

He vowed then never to transform again.

However, he did, once more, after he had made his first horcrux. Just to see if the splitting of his soul had changed his animagus form—perhaps, made it more powerful since he had attempted such dark and difficult magic.

But the animal form had not changed. It was still just a tiny garden snake.

This time, though, it had become even smaller.


	20. Flight of Death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the months long delay. I've been busy with work and school. Hope you're still interested :)

Today was the day.

Today was the day Bella would finally be able to remove the leaf from her mouth, transform, and finally see what animal represented her soul as her animagus.

Obviously, it would be a predator. A powerful, dangerous, and deadly predator-but still a beautiful one, too. And probably black in color, due to her familial origins…

_Blast!_

Bella screamed as she was suddenly knocked over backwards onto the packed earth ground of the clearing behind her. Dazed, she gazed up at the cloudy late morning sky.

Soon the Dark Lord stood over her, shaking his pale head in disappointment. "Bella, you were supposed to be predicting my attack based on my wand movement and defending yourself accordingly."

Bella tried to respond, tried to sit up, but found she was paralyzed, wand hand gripping her wand tightly. So she just stared up, wide-eyed, at the pale man in a black robe from the on the dried, fallen cornstalks upon which she lay.

"Your focus has improved this past month, why have you suddenly regressed?" The Dark Lord asked.

Again, Bella could not answer. She widened her dark eyes, urgently, hoping that the Dark Lord would unparalyze her.

…No. He was not finished lecturing her yet.

"In a battle nothing is more important than the fight at hand." He continued, "Whatever you're thinking about can wait. If you lose focus during a real fight, it could mean your capture or your death."

 _Yes,_ Bella already knew that. She had been told that probably a thousand times already! She would normally never lose focus during a fight because fighting was her favorite activity (though training was becoming a bit boring…) but today she had a legitimate reason.

Her animagus.

The Dark Lord was still talking about why never to get distracted…at least that was what Bella assumed he was still talking about. She had tuned out by now, distracted by the thought of finding out what her animagus would be.

She rolled her eyes in annoyance as if to say _'I know, I know, just unparalyze me already!'_

Finally, the Dark Lord waved his wand.

Bella was able to move again. She instantly jumped up, brushing the dirt and dust off her black dress with her free hand.

"How do I transform into my animagus?" Bella asked immediately.

The Dark Lord's red eyes blinked. "Oh…yes, I suppose it has been a month already." He then added, "Remove the leaf from your mouth and you'll be able to transform."

Bella nodded. She waved her wand and opened her mouth. An unrecognizable, chewed and saliva-covered, mess exited through her red lips and then dropped onto the dusty ground where Bella stamped on it with the toe of her boot.

Bella then closed her dark eyes and focused on her animagus. It was hard to transform when she did not know what she was transforming into, so she just visualized herself morphing into a tiger.

_Slowly, Bella felt her body begin to change…_

When Bella opened her eyes, everything looked different. First, she was much, much, much shorter and so staring up at the Dark Lord and the cornstalks surrounding them. Second, everything was in sharper focus. It was as if her eyes had turned to magnifying glasses and she could see for miles.

…but she could not see what animal she had become.

"My lord, what am I?" Bella asked-or, rather, tried to ask. The only noise that came from her mouth were a few squawking sounds.

Alright. Squawking. She was some kind of bird, then.

Probably a hawk. Or a falcon. Maybe even a vulture…

The Dark Lord was chuckling as he looked down at Bella with red eyes. What was so funny? Why did he think what she had transformed into was funny?

"Squawk! Squawk!?" Bella demanded, then remembered that she could not talk.

Sighing, Bella flapped her wings. Hopefully she was not a flightless bird…it seemed natural, even instinctual, the pattern and speed she flapped her wings. Bella easily rose up into the air, grabbing her wand in her new talons.

She kept ascending and ascending until she was flying over the cornfield and the Dark Lord was just a little black dot with a white head in the clearing.

She continued to fly, away from the field, and back towards the Black Manor. She could see its black roof and dark bricks, its restored green front lawn and cobblestone pathway…

Blast!

Blast! Blast! Blast!

Bella's new sharper eyes saw the green beams of light blasting her way. She managed to dodge all four blasts and then the next four that came her way.

She dove, down through the afternoon air, towards the source of the attacks.

That Russian man-what was his name again? Oh, right. Antonin Dolohov. He was blasting killing curses at her from the front yard of her parent's home!

His scruffy, sparsely facial-haired, face came into sharper and sharper focus as Bella rocketed towards it, dodging each curse as he casted them. Finally he just dropped his wands and held up his arms to shield his face from the oncoming bird attack.

Bella swooped up and pecked the top of his head of dark hair. He shouted in pain.

After a few moments of this, Bella finally stopped. She flew off of his head and landed on the green grass of the front lawn.

There, she transformed back into her human form.

Cautiously, Dolohov lowered his arms that had been shielding his face. His forehead furrowed. "It was _you?!"_

Bella cackled. "That's my animagus form. Don't you like it?"

"A cuckoo bird?" Dolohov replied in his Russian accent, "Your animagus is a cuckoo bird?"

Bella blinked in surprised. "A cuckoo bird?! I thought it was a hawk!"

Dolohov shook his scruffy head. Now he was laughing. "No, no, _kukushka_ , that was a cuckoo bird."

A cuckoo bird?! A _cuckoo bird?!_ Of all the animals in the world, Bella's soul was represented by a _cuckoo bird?!_

"Are you sure?" Bella checked.

"Oh, I'm sure." Dolohov grinned with vodka-soaked teeth, "I've been killing them for the past month in case they were animagi trying to infiltrate the property and spy on the Dark Arts training program."

"Well, don't kill them anymore." Bella grumbled.

She then transformed again and flew away.

* * *

Bella was amazed by the progress of the students in the backyard of the Black Manor. She had not noticed their slow improvement over the course of the month of June, but now as a cuckoo bird, flying over them as they blasted powerful spells in perfect formation, she could see that they looked like true soldiers now.

…even Regulus, who had been so scared. Even _Sirius,_ who had been so defiant (Bella's Cruciatus Curse after he had tried to escape must have finally worked its magic on him, making him a good little Black son).

Regulus' team was fighting Rodolphus' team. Bella could not tell who was winning, just that both their attacking and their shielding skills had improved enough that they were at a stalemate of blasting and blocking hexes and curses.

She continued flying.

She looped around and headed back to the overgrown field. But when she arrived, the Dark Lord had left, probably back to the Black Manor. Bella flapped her new wings and took off towards her home.

* * *

Squinting in the dim light of the library, Bella's dark eyes examined a page of _The Encyclopedia of Nonmagical Creatures._ She had never even bothered to touch the heavy, dusty book the low rung of a corner shelf because nonmagical creatures, just like everything nonmagical, were inconsequential to the pureblood witch. But now, sitting on the hardwood floor of the library, Bella had finally opened the large book that sat on her lap.

_Cuckoos are brood parasites meaning that they lay their eggs in the nest of other species of birds, leaving those birds to raise their young. This is the origin of the term 'cuckold', which is used to refer to a man whose wife is unfaithful._

Bella snorted. Maybe her animagus was an accurate representation of her soul, after all…

* * *

"Today, you all have a chance to redeem yourselves for your failure at Stonehenge." The Dark Lord announced.

He stood in front of a line of uniformed students in the backyard of the Black Manor. Bella was idling near him, instead of joining the line, which caused Ingvar Karkaroff to give her a period glare from where he was standing beside his line of students.

The students glanced at each other, wondering what their supposed leader, who rarely bothered to speak to them, meant by what he had just said. Rodolphus turned to Rabastan. Alecto turned to Amycus. Regulus turned to Sirius.

Sirius tensed. He knew what ever this redemption would be probably involved hurting muggles. He had been pretending to hate muggles and love the Dark Arts this whole month but he did not know how much longer he could fake this-deception and infiltration were not part of a Gryffindor's usual repertoire.

"In the next three weeks, you will be attacking three targets." The Dark Lord continued, "A muggle clocktower, a muggle bridge, and a crowded muggle street. All three are landmarks that muggles consider important and so by defacing them we display our superiority."

Sirius almost sighed aloud in relief. Defacing landmarks? All they had to do was vandalism? Not torture and murder? _Thank Merlin…_

"The first attack will take place tomorrow night." The Dark Lord added, "At the muggle clocktower."

From his place beside Sirius, Regulus raised his hand. "How will we get up there, my lord?" There was an annoying amount of respect, even reverence in his voice. _How could he seriously respect this evil old man?_

At that the Dark Lord smiled. It was the creepiest smile Sirius had ever seen.

"You will fly." The Dark Lord stated.

* * *

It was dark and somewhat cloudy, even foggy, that night at the Palace of Westminster. The mist was gathering around the tall, pointed clocktower colloquially known as 'Big Ben', and sneaking inside through its fence-covered windows, trying to find the bell.

The uniformed security guard who was patrolling around the bell, protected by its own fence, waved his flashlight towards the fog entering through the windows. The light became diffuse and Guard squinted in the darkness to see.

 _How strange._ Mist, fog, smog…it did not usually make its way inside the clocktower.

Guard stopped and sniffed.

Wait a minute. It was not mist. It was smoke! There was a fire!

Guard jolting, turning to hurry downstairs to raise the alarm. "Fire!" he shouted, "Fire!" as he waved his flashlight around frantically.

He was just about to leave the room that held the bell when he felt a sharp pain to the top of his head. Something had struck him.

Guard reached up towards the top of his balding head. He could feel the talons of a bird that had landed on his remaining hair, and the point of its beak pecking into his skin repeatedly. _What the hell?_

Guard dropped his flashlight and tried to swat the bird away with both hands. He failed and his flashlight rolled away across the stone floor, leaving him completely in the dark.

The bird kept pecking Guard's bald spot and his arms flailed wildly, trying and failing to shoo it away in complete darkness. He started to run without being able to see.

The smoke got thicker.

"Help!" Guard cried as he sprinted "Fire!" he then added "I'm being attacked by a bird!"

He was able to sprint a few steps before he collided with the stone wall and was knocked unconscious.

* * *

It was _weird_ flying on a cloud of smoke, Regulus thought. Really, really weird.

And scary.

It was nothing at all like flying on a broomstick. At least when flying on a broomstick he was attached to _something,_ supported by _something._ Flying on a cloud of smoke, it felt like he was just floating alone in the air and could fall at any moment.

It felt especially frightening because the clouds of smoke were black and so almost invisible in the dark, slightly cloudy night as they rose upwards towards the clock tower.

Right now, Regulus was hovering beside Evan Rosier, Mordred Mulciber, and Alvin Avery. The boys had not expected to find fence over the windows blocking their way into the clocktower.

(Sirius had not been invited to this 'outing'. Although he had pledged his loyalty and participated in training all month, he still was not trusted to attend the attack…yet.)

Bella, in the form of a cuckoo bird, had managed to slip through a hole in the fence. Hopefully she was finding a way to let them in…(though, from the screams of a muggle inside, it sounded more like she was just having fun by herself in there).

"This is taking forever." Mordred grumbled. "Your hot cousin better hurry up and let us in."

Alvin nodded in agreement, brow furrowed in annoyance. Regulus and Evan both grimaced, both cousins of Bella.

"That's it." Mordred declared, pulling out his wand from his gray uniform pocket, "I'm just going to blast the fence open."

"Don't!" Regulus warned, "The Dark Lord told us not to fly and use spells at the same time. We're not powerful enough to do two forms of magic at once yet."

"I'm sure I'm strong enough." Mordred dismissed. He pointed his wand at the closest fence and shouted, _"Reducto!"_

The chainlink fence blasted away…but, just as Regulus and the Dark Lord had warned, Mordred's cloud of smoke immediately disappeared and he began to fall.

"Ahh!" he shouted and he plummeted towards the stone grounds of the palace below. "Help!"

Alvin swooped down on his cloud of black smoke to save him. Evan and Regulus watched in horror. Evan swooped down to help too but Regulus was too shocked to move.

In a few moments, Evan and Alvin returned, carrying Mordred by one arm each. Mordred's cloud of smoke had returned but it was weaker now.

"Thanks for helping, 'team leader'." Alvin snarked at Regulus. Evan and Mordred were glaring at Regulus, too.

Regulus did not blame them. He was such a coward sometimes…

"…sorry." Regulus gulped. His pale face turned pink with embarrassment. He then attempted to assert himself with, "I warned you, Mordred."

Mordred rolled his hazel eyes. "Whatever, Reg. Let's just go inside."

And so the boys flew through the window into the clocktower.

* * *

Bella's eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness inside the bell room of the clocktower when she heard the boys burst in. She was standing over the unconscious body of the muggles security guard, wishing he was awake so she could crucio him, and turned her head of long dark hair to look at them.

They stopped in front of her, squinting in the dark.

"So…uh…what do we do now?" Evan wondered aloud, flipping his golden blond hair out of his adjusting eyes.

"We trash the place, right?" Alvin suggested, "Make sure the muggles knew it was us and not some muggle burglar."

"How will they know it was us if they don't even know we exist?" Mordred reasoned.

"That's the point of this, isn't it?" Regulus considered, "To reveal ourselves to the muggles as their superiors. That's what the Dark Lord said."

Bella nodded. "Very good, Reggie."

It was still dark, but Reggie turned a little pink. Mordred, Alvin and Evan snickered.

"Little Reggie." Mordred teased in a sing-song voice as Alvin and Evan continued to laugh.

Regulus glared at them and then glared at Bella. Bella grimaced.

Regulus had only recently 'forgiven' her for making him torture a muggle last month (not that torturing a muggle ever warranted 'forgiveness'). She did not want her favorite cousin angry at her _again._

Mordred then turned to Bella, "So do I get a nickname, too?" he asked raising his dirtyblond eyebrows suggestively.

Bella drew her wand and pointed it at him. "Hmmm...how about 'crucio'?" she warned.

Mordred tensed, gulping. He then quickly changed the subject, "How about we start destroying stuff now."

Bella redirected her pointing wand towards the bell "Let's start with that."

* * *

_Clocktower Attacked!_

_Sometime in the night or early morning, a number of unknown assailants broke into the clocktower known to muggles as 'Big Ben'. Using magic, they broke the window, attacked a security guard, and destroyed its punctual bell, a marvel of muggle technology._

_Luckily, though, a team of wizards from the Ministry of Magic managed to repair the damage before any muggle saw it. They also healed the muggle guard and wiped his memory so he could not reveal whatever he had witnessed to the muggle authorities or muggle public._

_The vandals are still unidentified and at large, though from the unpracticed appearance of their damage are presumed to be juveniles. How they managed to use magic outside of Hogwarts without activating the Trace is not known, but the_ _Improper Use of Magic Office is currently investigating this incident._

_Stay tuned, as the Daily Prophet may have more information by the evening edition._

The Dark Lord slammed down the newspaper onto the desk he sat at. He then turned his pale head to face Bella where she was standing beside him, dressed in the nightgown she had rushed down to retrieve the Daily Prophet in when she was awoken by the sound of her father opening it downstairs.

The curtain window protected the dimly-lit guestroom from the morning sunlight.

Although he had slammed down the newspaper, the Dark Lord did not look that angry, only severely annoyed. The last time Bella had seen him truly angry was when she had disobeyed him and gone to Stonehenge, and even that was not as furious as she suspected the Dark Lord could get given the right circumstances.

"You weren't careful!" He snapped, "You must have triggered some kind of magical defense that alerted the Ministry to your break in."

"It wasn't _me."_ Bella tried, "It had to have been one of the boys. Probably the Mulciber boy."

"I put you in charge of them, Bella." The Dark Lord reminded sharply, "That means you're responsible for whatever mistakes they made."

Bella grimaced. "Sorry, my lord…"

"Now there's an investigation!" The Dark Lord exclaimed. His chair screeched against the hardwood floors and he stood up abruptly. "This could be traced back to us."

Bella backed away from him, nervously. "…but isn't that the point of this? I thought you wanted the muggles and the Ministry to fear you."

"I can't reveal myself until my army is skilled enough to take on the Ministry of Magic." The Dark Lord explained, "And as you can see by the Prophet's description of last night's vandalism as 'juvenile', it is not."

"Maybe they called it 'juvenile' because nobody died." Bella reasoned, "Let me kill some muggles next time and we'll see how the Daily Prophet describes the attack, then."

"If you kill even one muggle, it won't be the Improper Use of Magic Office investigating anymore, it will be the Auror Office." The Dark Lord refused. He sat back down in the chair that had been pushed away from the desk.

"So?" Bella shrugged, "I'm not afraid aurors. Some of the Gryffindors I used to bully are aurors now. Not the most frightening bunch. Or the most powerful."

"You may or may not be able to handle combat with aurors," The Dark Lord replied, "But the students currently training, your cousins and your husband included, certainly are not. Are you willing to risk _their_ lives?"

"For _your_ cause, I am." Bella declared, "For you I would risk anything. Including my own life."

The Dark Lord rolled his red eyes at this. "If you want to support my cause, you'll allow my army to train and grow more powerful without being derailed by an auror investigation."

Bella sighed. "You're right. No killing…yet."

* * *

The makeshift dormitory on the third floor of the Black Manor was lit only by the open window, its curtains drawn back to overlook the backyard. Down below uniformed students were practicing flight on clouds of black smoke.

Regulus, who stood at the open window watched, squinted his dark eyes. Tears were forming in them due to the smoke but he kept watching.

"Would you close that window already?" Sirius snapped, then coughed. "The smoke's making it hard to breathe in here."

He was lying on the top bunk of the corner bunkbed, eyes closed because of the smoke.

Regulus turned his dark-haired head to look at his older brother. "But I'm trying to watch."

"You can watch outside." Sirius replied, "Or with the window closed."

Regulus turned back towards the window. He reached up and pulled the glass part down to close the window. He then looked over at Sirius again.

"So Professor Karkaroff's still not letting you go tonight?" Regulus asked.

"He's not." Sirius confirmed, "He still doesn't trust me."

"Honestly, I can understand why…" Regulus muttered, down to his shoes rather than up to Sirius in the bunkbed. He then followed-up with "But you have behaved all month."

Sirius hmmed, "I'm just doing what I have to do."

"For the pureblood cause?" Regulus asked, "Or to avoid the Cruciatus Curse?"

"Both." Sirius lied. The true answer was neither.

"So, what Bella did to you…" Regulus began, "When she used the Cruciatus Curse on you and made you change your mind about participating in this Dark Arts Training…was she just doing what she had to do?"

To that question, Sirius did not lie.

"No." he declared, opening his gray eyes and sitting up in bed to look down at his little brother, "Bellatrix hurts people because she enjoys it. There's a difference between doing what you have to do, hurting people because you have to, and hurting people because you _like_ to."

Regulus grimaced. "I just don't understand why anyone would enjoy hurting someone else?"

"Ask Bellatrix." Sirius snorted, "Don't ask me."

"You and your Gryffindor friends like to hurt Severus Snape for fun." Regulus reminded.

"We never used an Unforgiveable Curse on him." Sirius countered.

But still, Regulus did have a point. As weird as Snape was, he probably did not deserve being bullied…unless he continued to stalk Lily Evans.

Sirius decided then he would stop messing with Snape if he returned to Hogwarts. But 'if' was a big if at this point.

* * *

There was rush hour traffic that evening on London Bridge, recently rebuilt in 1973. Cars, trucks and busses were at a standstill on the flat stone structure over the misty River Thames, honking their horns in frustration.

It was dark, as the sun had all-but completely set, and fog rose from the blue-green river below, lapping between the arches holding the bridge up. Visibility was limited.

Suddenly there was smoke. It rose from the bridge, which had no towers or poles to impede its journey up towards the darkened, cloudy sky above.

Driver gripped the steeringwheel of his car, groaning in annoyance. _Smoke?_ No wonder there was traffic. Some vehicle up ahead must have caught fire.

More smoke.

Driver blinked in surprise, foot still pressing the break as his car had been unable to move for the past twenty or so minutes. _Where was all this smoke coming from?_

The black smoke was now covering the entire bridge as if it was smog. It blocked Driver's front window, and the front windows of all the other vehicles on the flat bridge, and so nobody was able to see.

Driver turned on his windshield-wipers, but that did not help. He opened his driverside window and poked his bearded head out…only to get an eye, nose and mouthful of smoke.

Coughing, Driver quickly pulled his head back into his car and rolled up the window. "What the hell?" He pressed the button to turn on the radio. Maybe the BBC would explain the situation.

Static.

For some reason, the radio was not working. It was only buzzing wordlessly.

The smoke continued to grow thicker and darker. Driver was completely blind in his small car, and he assumed so were the passengers in all of the other vehicles. They could not move and they could not see.

_Smash!_

Driver and his car shook when something smacked into his car. At first, he thought it was another car crashing into him, but it had come from the side, more like a gust of wind than a metal contraption.

_Smash!_

Driver and his car shook again.

_Smash!_

And again.

_Smash!_

And again.

The fourth smash was so violent that Driver accidently released his foot from the break. His car rolled forward into the car ahead of him with a metallic crash that Driver could only hear but not see.

Horns were honking furiously now. Driver could also hear shouts and screams. He stared into the blackness surrounding his closed windows but still could see nothing but dark smoke.

It was scarier this way. He had no idea what was out there. No idea what was happening…

_Smash!_

One final time _something_ struck Driver's car. And this time not only did the car shake, it toppled over, and over, and over…

Driver felt his car rolling and then _falling._

He only realized what had happened when his car had splashed into the river beneath the bridge. And by the time he shook himself out of the initial shock, his car was already filling with salty, dirty riverwater.

* * *

Amycus and Alecto Carrow were cackling as they watched the tiny car topple over the side of the bridge and fall into the River Thames below. They stood on the sidewalk on the edge of the bridge, hands on the railing as they leaned over to see the car slowly sinking into the water.

A cloud of smoke, attached to a wizard, zoomed by and then landed next to them.

"What are you doing?!" Rodolphus Lestrange exclaimed, "We're not supposed to kill any muggles yet! You're going to get us investigated by aurors!"

"Bring it on!" Amycus declared.

"Killing aurors would be even more fun than killing muggles." Alecto added, grinning.

Rodolphus shook his brown-haired head, grumbling "Merlin, you two are as crazy as Bella…"

He took off on a cloud of black smoke, leaving the Carrow Siblings to watch the muggle drown. He considered saving the muggle, but that would make him look like a muggle-lover which would hurt his and his family's reputation (and incur the wrath of his wife).

Instead, Rodolphus decided to find his little brother Rabastan and make sure he was not doing anything _too_ stupid.

After flying around the smoke-covered bridge for a while, Rod located Bas and Igor Karkaroff attacking red doubledecker bus. The muggle passengers screamed inside as Bas and Igor pushed the bus back and forth from where they floated on clouds of smoke on either side of it.

Rod rolled his green eyes.

The whole plan to attack muggle landmarks was idiotic in Rod's opinion. How did the Dark Lord plan to achieve Pureblood Superiority in the Wizarding World by attacking muggles? Obviously he had another plan he was not telling his new followers…

…but had he told _Bella?_ Rod wondered. Maybe. The two were always together, it had to be more than training and 'just sex', as Bella had called it.

For all Rod knew, the so-called 'Dark Lord' just wanted to rule the muggle world and was only using wizards to get what he wanted by promising them Pureblood Supremacy. After all he was half muggle. Why would he even want Pureblood Supremacy, anyway?

Rod had to figure out what was really going on and what the Dark Lord was truly planning before the Dark Lord used his family and fellow purebloods for his own gain and then left them with the blame.

* * *

_Strange Winds_

_An odd storm occurred above London Bridge last evening, according to muggle reports. A smoky fog covered the bridge, placing it in complete darkness. Strong winds rocked a red two-story van and knocked a car off the bridge into the river below, drowning a muggle male. Several muggles were also hospitalized due to smoke inhalation._

_Experts at the Ministry of Magic and the Daily Prophet agree this storm may have been magical in origin, though no further investigation is being conducted at this time._

The Dark Lord slammed down the newspaper onto the desk he sat at. "' _May_ have been magical in origin'?! 'No further investigation'?!"

Bella furrowed her pale forehead. First, the Dark Lord was angry about an investigation, now he was angry that there was not one?

"But I thought you didn't want an investigation?" she reminded.

"I don't want an investigation that leads to me." The Dark Lord explained from his wooden chair, "But I _do_ want the Ministry and the public to know that these someone is behind these attacks-and that they are attacks, not 'strange winds'. The purpose of this is to spread fear."

"How will they fear you if they don't know who you are, my lord?" Bella wondered.

"People fear the dark as much as they fear the boogeyman." The Dark Lord replied.

Bella blinked. "The _what?"_ The pureblood witch had never heard the muggle term 'boogeyman' before.

The Dark Lord rolled his red eyes. "A monster." He clarified, "And in fact, people fear the dark more than they fear monsters because they fear the unknown."

"And that's why people fear death." Bella guessed.

The Dark Lord tensed uncomfortably. Bella pretended not to notice, hoping she had not somehow offended him. Again.

* * *

There was light in the darkness of the night, but it did not come from stars. Multiple billboards lit Piccadilly Circus in London. Coca Cola glowed red and white, other colors and logos surrounding its familiar brand.

The streets and sidewalks were crowded with pedestrians and vehicles, people out for a 'night on the town'. Among them were Girlfriend and her Boyfriend.

Girlfriend was pretty sure Boyfriend was going to propose to her tonight. It was their third anniversary and they had come to Piccadilly Circus because it was where they had gone on their first date after their friends had set them up. Girlfriend had been giving Boyfriend hints for a while now, casually leaving jewelry catalogues around their shared flat (her parents thought she lived with a female friend).

Holding hands, Girlfriend and Boyfriend stopped on the sidewalk, causing the other pedestrians to navigate around them like river water around a stone, in order to kiss where they had had their first kiss under the red glow of the Coca Cola sign.

It was during this public display of affection, right when Boyfriend broke the kiss, kneeled, and reached into his jacket pocket, that _something_ crashed into the billboard above.

_Crash!_

The glass shattered, falling like solid raindrops onto the couple. They screamed in shock and alarm, trying to cover their heads and necks with their arms.

Other people were screaming, too. Some pedestrians and cars stopped to stare at the broken sign, others began to run or drive away from it. Horns were honking at cars and at people who had jumped into the street to avoid falling glass.

_Crash!_

Another glowing billboard had been hit. More glass fell. More screams, running, and carhorns honking.

"Come on!" Boyfriend grabbed Girlfriend's hand and started to run, pulling her along.

…but then he stopped. Several people who had also been running bumped into them, cursing, then circumventing around the couple.

"Why are we stopping?!" Girlfriend cried, glancing in all directions at the chaos surrounding them, and then at her boyfriend again.

"The ring!" Boyfriend exclaimed, "I dropped it!"

"Forget it!" Girlfriend dismissed.

"No way, that was three months' salary!" Boyfriend refused, releasing Girlfriend's hand and taking off the way they had come.

Girlfriend watched him go, stunned for a moment, before chasing after him, against the flow of the pedestrians running in the opposite direction, away from the broken Coca Cola sign that had now caught fire and was spewing flames in addition to broken glass.

Girlfriend caught up to Boyfriend who was down on his knees again, this time frantically searching the dirty concrete sidewalk for the ring he had dropped in the confusion. Some fleeing person stamped on his hand. Another tripped over his kneeling body, landing face first on the hard pavement.

"Let's just go!" Girlfriend urged, trying to pull her boyfriend off of the ground. But he would not budge.

… _Creak…_

A large piece of metal let out a long, drawn out sigh. A sound that could mean one thing.

The Coca Cola billboard, still burning and expelling broken glass, fell forward, off of the building wall it was mounted on and landed with a crash onto the sidewalk below.

…and an unfortunate couple, almost engaged, on their third anniversary.

* * *

"You did that on purpose." Rodolphus accused.

Bella snickered. "No, I would never deliberately disobey the Dark Lord and kill muggles when he told us not to…But, if the sign fell accidentally after I destroyed it, well, I guess that's not really my fault, now is it, Roddy?"

She twirled the wand that had sent the spell at the billboard in her hand with feigned innocence.

Rod groaned, shaking his head.

They stood on the roof of a muggle building overlooking the crowded muggle street that was now in chaos as its signs (which somehow glowed without magic) burst into flames and falling glass. The muggles looked like ants fleeing a magnifying glass' heat from up here.

Standing behind the Lestrange couple were the other students (except Sirius Black). Bella turned around to face them.

"What are you all waiting for?" she asked, still snickering, "Don't be scared. Go have some fun."

The uniformed students remained where they stood on the flat rooftop of the office building. They glanced at each other, then at Bella, and then finally at Rodolphus, nervously.

Bella furrowed her pale forehead in confusion at their inaction.

"You just killed two muggles." Rod reminded, "The Dark Lord said not to do that yet. You might get away with it, but they won't. And they don't want to be blamed for your actions."

"I don't get any special privileges." Bella dismissed, "And _I_ was the one blamed for their actions during the attack on the clocktower." She pointed at Mordred Mulciber, specifically, even though he had not been the only one there.

Mordred glared at her with hazel eyes. He folded his arms.

Regulus stepped forward. "Your husband is right, Bella. We heard The Dark Lord yelling at you the other day while we were eating breakfast. We don't want to anger him…"

Bella snorted at that. "He wasn't even that angry."

The students eyed her skeptically.

It seems the Dark Lord had been correct in his statement that people feared the dark. The other students had spent almost no time with their leader and so feared the unknown that was the Dark Lord. The sound of him raising his voice in another room was enough to frighten them.

Bella sighed. "How about _this_ for motivation? I'll give a kiss to the first person here to capture a muggle." She pressed her wand to her lips suggestively.

Rod's green eyes widened in surprise then narrowed in anger. "No, you certainly will not!" But he (and everyone else) knew he had no power to prevent his wife from doing whatever she wanted.

The other males were much more supportive. They smiled and nodded eagerly. (Except for Regulus who tensed and gulped in discomfort.)

Alecto Carrow rolled her eyes. "That's not very motivating…"

"Maybe not to you, but you'll have to practice on someone other than your own brother sometime." Bella smirked, though she had no real intention of letting the younger girl 'practice' with her, anyway.

Everyone chuckled at Bella's insinuation… except, of course, the Carrow siblings. They turned pink and glowered at Bella instead.

She just laughed. "Those muggles won't capture themselves. The rest of you boys better get on that if you want a kiss."

"Wait, no-" Rod tried.

But most of the uniformed students had already burst into the dark night air, flying on clouds of black smoke. They shot like rockets towards the Piccadilly Circus billboards, now glowing from fire rather than…whatever it was muggles used to make them glow normally, and the screaming and fleeing crowd below.

Only Bella, Rod, and Regulus remained on the roof. (Alecto had flown after her brother who seemed a bit too interested in Bella's offer.)

Regulus shook his head of dark hair. "I don't think I can do it…The muggles at Stonehenge, they deserved to punished, they were invading a sacred Wizard site. But these muggles…" he pointed at the ones squealing and scattering like rats on the street, "…they were just minding their own business. They were already in their place."

"No they weren't." Bella countered, "Muggle's place is serving Pureblood Wizards and Witches like us. They should be our slaves, not living freely as if they deserve autonomy."

"So _that's_ what the Dark Lord's planning?!" Rod interjected, "I knew he didn't just want Pureblood Supremacy. He wants to rule over muggles, too!"

Bella shrugged. "Who are we to demand or question the Dark Lord's plans?"

"His followers." Rod reasoned, "We have a right to know what we're doing and why. It's already dangerous to go to war with the Ministry of Magic, and the bloodtraitors, but it's insane to go to war with the muggles. We may have magic, but they have millions-billions-more people than we do. We'll all get killed. We're following a madman to our deaths!"

"Calm down, Rod." Bella dismissed, rolling her dark eyes.

But Rod did not calm down. And now Regulus looked scared, as well. His dark eyes widened in fear along with Rod's green ones.

"Is this true?" Regulus wondered, panic in his cracking pubescent voice, "Does the Dark Lord really want to go to war with the muggles? Are we all going to die?"

Bella groaned. She glared at Rod before smiling sweetly at Regulus.

"Don't worry, Reggie, it'll be fine." She assured, "Everything will be fine. The Dark Lord knows what he's doing."

"But do you know, Bella?" Rod asked. "If he's telling you the details of his plans you should tell us. Or at least tell me. I am your husband, after all."

"He hasn't told me anything that you all don't already know." Bella replied, and that was mostly true (which kind of offended Bella, she was the Dark Lord's student so she deserved more information, did she not?).

Behind her, the sounds of crashing muggle billboards, cars, and other miscellaneous objects rang out in harmony with the screams of muggles. The rest of the students were having fun while Bella was stuck on the roof trying to reassure her overly-nervous husband and overly-naive cousin. _She was missing out!_

"We all need to participate in the attack like the Dark Lord ordered." Bella declared, "You can disobey him at your own peril, if you want. I know I won't."

And with that she took off from the rooftop on her own cloud of dark smoke, deciding that a tiny cuckoo bird was not the right method of flight for this occasion.

* * *

Four prisoners were stunned lying on the same rooftop in front of Bella. The uniformed students stood before her, too, right behind their captured muggles.

They were shielded by an invisibility charm from the muggle flying contraption that circled above, chopping at the smoke-filled air with the blades holding it up. The contraption shone a spotlight on the chaotic scene of Piccadilly Circus below.

"I got one." Mordred declared, proudly, standing over a paralyzed muggle woman who was suspiciously missing her shirt for a relatively chilly evening.

"You mean _we_ got one." Alvin corrected from where he stood next to his best friend.

"I'm not sharing the kiss." Mordred grumbled.

"You're not getting the kiss," Bella refused, walking past Mordred, Alvin and their captured muggle, onto the next student.

"Mine got away." Evan Rosier shrugged, flipping his golden hair out of his eyes. Bella suspected that his hair obstructing this view had something to do with his muggle escaping-if he had even managed to catch one in the first place with that blond mop in his face.

Bella continued past her maternal cousin, onto the next students. The Carrow siblings had also shared the capture of one muggle, an elderly man who still clutched a cane in his tightened, paralyzed hand. An easy target.

"You're not kissing me or my brother." Alecto warned, wand pointed at Bella.

"Really?" Bella chuckled, "Both afraid you might like me better than each other?" She chuckled as she walked away from the glaring Carrows and their stunned captive.

Igor Karkaroff was next. The first student to capture a muggle all on his own, and a relatively fit and young muggle man, at that.

"Good job," Bella complimented, "Your father and the Dark Lord will be proud."

Igor smiled, his mouth surrounded by the scraggly attempt at a goatee. He was just starting to pucker his lips when…

"Too bad I don't like foreigners." Bella said.

Igor slumped his shoulders as Bella continued past him, towards the next student.

Rabastan Lestrange had failed to capture a muggle, even with his older brother's help. "Can I get a kiss, anyway? We're family." he attempted.

Rod immediately punched him in the gut of his gray uniform. "Shut up, Bas. Don't talk to my wife like that."

Bas clutched his stomach and dropped to his knees. He almost landed on the muggle Rod had captured, a young woman, dark haired like the one Rod had practiced the Cruciatus Curse on a month ago.

Bella eyed the muggle woman at her feet, tapping her with her boot. "Pretty." She commented, "Good job, Rod." She looked up at her husband, "I suppose you get the kiss then…wait."

Rod furrowed his brow. "What?"

Bella looked at him, then scanned the rooftop. "Where's Reggie?"

The other students started to glance around the darkness. It was past midnight and Regulus had not returned from the attack.

 _Had he fled in fear?_ Bella wondered. _Was he still a coward? Or had he gotten hurt somehow during the attack? Or worse…_

The voices on the rooftop hushed in worry. The only sound now was the whir of the muggle flying contraption above, and the muggle police and firetruck sirens below.

Suddenly, though, the spotlight that had been lighting Piccadilly Circus after the billboards and the fires had gone out, moved. It pointed towards something else.

The sky.

Against the dark backdrop of night and black smoke letters appeared in the red-orange color of fire.

_ALL HAIL THE DARK LORD_

The muggles staring up from the street gasped. So did the wizards and witches on the rooftop.

A few minutes after the message had been written by magic fire in the sky, Regulus Black landed on the roof, the cloud of smoke he had been flying on phasing out behind him as he walked towards his fellow students. They stared at him in shock.

Even Bella's eyes were wide in surprise. Regulus turned to her first.

"Now the Daily Prophet will know someone's behind the attacks without knowing who." Regulus explained, "And the Dark Lord won't yell at you anymore..."

His smile was half nervous, half proud. He was probably wondering whether Bella would chastise him or praise him.

She did neither. Bella scooped Regulus into a crushing hug and gave him the kiss she had promised (on the cheek, of course, since he was her baby cousin, after all).

The other boys glared jealously, especially Rod, who had been sure the kiss was for him. He kicked the paralyzed muggle woman he had captured in frustration.

Regulus tensed and turned bright red. Bella almost laughed when she released him from her grasp.

"Reggie, this is just we needed!" she exclaimed, "The Dark Lord will be very pleased when he sees the Prophet tomorrow!"

Regulus did not immediately react to Bella's words. He was still tense and red from her hug, like an upright version of the paralyzed muggles lying on the rooftop.

"We better go before the reports-and the aurors-get here." Rod said with urgency.

Bella turned to him and nodded. "Let's go!" she called to the students.

Rod was the first to apparate away, being old enough to do so, taking his muggle prisoner with him. His brother Rabastan followed, sans prisoner since he did not have one.

The rest of the students, too young to disapparate, blasted off of the rooftop on clouds of smoke and flew away. Alecto and Amycus carried their prisoner, Mordred and Alvin carried their prisoner, Igor carried his prisoner with help from Evan.

They left Bella and Regulus on the roof overlooking Piccadilly Circus alone.

"Come on, Reggie." Bella urged, "Why are you just standing there?"

"I don't want you to call me 'Reggie' anymore." Regulus declared, though his voice wavered with nervousness as well as puberty, "I'm almost fifteen. I'm not a little kid anymore, so you don't need to treat me like one."

Bella blinked, taken aback. First, she laughed the request off. "But Reggie, you'll always be my little cousin!"

Regulus shook his head, dark hair shaking with it. "This is an army and we're about to go to war. Maybe with the Ministry, maybe with all the muggles, too. If I'm going to participate, I have to be a grownup."

Bella sighed, a little sad. Her baby was growing up. "Alright…" she accepted, "But if you want to be treated like a man, you'll have to start acting like one. No more refusing to capture and torture muggles, no more running away. And you may have to kill people, and not just filthy muggles and mudbloods. You may have to kill bloodtraitors, as well."

Regulus took a nervous breath, grimacing. He was a silent for a moment, as if reconsidering his request. But then he stated. "I understand." And this time his voice did not waver.

"Good." Bella smiled, "Now let's go home."

She grabbed Regulus by the hand and disapparated them both away from the rooftop of the muggle office building.

* * *

_WHO IS THE DARK LORD?_

_The muggle commercial district of Piccadilly Circus was attacked last night. At least two muggles have died, more are critically injured and several have gone missing. Though muggle authorities suspect that the Soviet Union, the IRA, or the National Front might have been behind the attack, the Ministry of Magic and the Daily Prophet know that those responsible for this attack were using magic._

_But who are they?_

_All that is known at the time is that the attackers follow someone known as the 'Dark Lord'. Who this 'Dark Lord' might be and what the motivation for this attack was is also unknown._

_The Department of Magical Law Enforcement suspects that this group is also responsible for the attacks on the muggle clocktower and the muggle bridge earlier this week. As such, they have assigned aurors to investigate this string of attacks._

_Though no such attack has occurred directed at the Wizarding community, Ministry officials urge everyone to be cautious when going about their daily lives._

_No one knows when the 'Dark Lord' and his followers might strike again._

The Dark Lord set down the newspaper on the desk he sat at in satisfaction.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, comments would be awesome.


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